


The Fisher's Lure

by say_lene



Series: The Fisher's Lure [1]
Category: Mass Effect: Andromeda
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-13
Updated: 2017-05-05
Packaged: 2018-10-18 09:17:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 57,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10613898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/say_lene/pseuds/say_lene
Summary: Things didn’t end well between Sara and Reyes following the events of High Noon. Reconciliation has to be kicked into overdrive when Kaetus tries to use the Pathfinder to avenge Sloane Kelly, but no plans are ever perfect - and Sara and Reyes soon find that nothing’s ever easy, either.





	1. Oblivion

It was raining on Kadara.

Sara had never seen it rain in the port before. It wasn't an improvement. Pooling water revealed flaws in construction that could be overlooked on a sunny day, and though the rain carried away the ever-present smell of engine fumes and unwashed outlaws, Sara knew it would all come back the moment the downpour stopped. In short, it made everything seem even more hopeless than it already did.

And that was saying a lot.

She tried to avoid the worst of the rain, but the port's entire population seemed to have crammed themselves into the few covered areas near the docks. Sara had to shove her way through the crowds, trying not to elbow anyone in the ribs too hard. She was angry - and hurt, too - but that wasn't the fault of the damp and smelly spacers. She passed Cora at the elevator to the slums, and the huntress smiled warmly.

"We heading out, Pathfinder?"

Sara shook her head violently, trying to shake the water out of her hair. "Nah, you stay here. I'm heading to Tartarus, but I won't be long."

Cora's face hardened. "He still not answering your emails?"

"Nope."

It was tempting to say a lot more than that; to wallow in the righteous anger and sympathetic fury that only a friend like Cora could offer - but even bitching to her friends couldn't heal this particular hurt. It went deep, this one. It _stung_.

Vetra had called him a scumbag and a liar. Jaal had agreed that the description was accurate. Peebee had gone with 'two-faced son of a bitch', and Liam had bought Sara a beer. _Several_ beers.

Reyes had probably never paid for a drink in his life.

"I hope you're not planning on going down there dressed like that," Vetra said from somewhere behind a pile of cargo crates.

"Sure I am, mom."

"The big bad Pathfinder doesn't need armour anymore, huh?" Vetra poked her head over the crates, frowning the way that only a turian can. "Taking a gun with you, at least?"

"Yes."

"Sara," Cora began. "Actually, never mind."

"What's up?" Sara busied herself with hiding her pistol inside her jacket. Just in and out, she reminded herself. No need to get caught up in Reyes' world again. No need to get caught up in _Reyes_ again.

Cora continued hesitantly. "Maybe I should go visit instead. I'm sure he's as concerned as we are about Kaetus' raids, just… maybe he can't face you."

Sara shook her head again. "I asked Reyes to let Kaetus go free," she grumbled. "It's my responsibility to clean this up. If I can be an adult about it, he can too."

She still felt guilty about what happened to Sloane and her right-hand turian - and still felt _stupid_ for feeling that way in the first place. She almost wished she'd let Reyes kill Kaetus. That way, she wouldn't owe the Charlatan anything.

She'd always thought that name was stupid - but she got it, now. Charlatan. Pretender. Liar.

"If you're sure," Cora murmured.

"But just so you know," Vetra interjected, "we're coming down to get you if you aren't back in twenty minutes."

"Good to know."

Sara wasn't sure what Vetra was worried about, but she didn't want clarification. Could be that Vetra was worried about the dangers of the slums, but it could be she was worried about Reyes.

Sara understood. The Initiative scientists said the black hole was Heleus' gravitational centre, but those people had never met Reyes Vidal. Sara tried not to think about it as the elevator started to descend. It would be so easy to lock eyes with him and forget all his broken promises; forget all the reasons they couldn't and _shouldn't_ be together. That was what gravity was, right? A pull.

A pull that never went away.

The rain was even less pleasant in the slums. Sara sprinted from the elevator to the relative shelter provided by the prefab catwalks. Even here, where the slums turned almost to a sort of cave system, the rain pounded on the metal like thunder. It was hard to hear anything over the din. A local salarian gave Sara a frightened look as she approached the entrance to Tartarus, then sprinted away like the Charlatan himself was on his heels. Maybe Reyes had told his people to watch out for her.

Sara smiled at the thought - Reyes Vidal, frightened of his ex.

His ex-what? Ex-girlfriend? Ex-fling? Sara didn't even really know.

She paused at the entrance, trying to gather her thoughts. Tartarus' walls couldn't contain it; she could feel the bassline tickling her spine. She'd keep their discussion business-like. Walk in, sit down, and get straight to the point.

_Hi, Reyes. Good to see you're still alive. No, really, it's **fine** that you haven't been answering my emails. I'm busy, too. Really. It's  **fine**._

_Listen, I need your help finding some raiders. Thing is, Kaetus is their leader. Yes, I know I asked you to let him live, but that's because I'm a giant sap - and also because I was feeling fragile after you broke my heart._

The intro definitely needed some work. But shit - between the cacophony around her and the cataclysm inside her, Sara could hardly even _breathe_ , let alone think straight. Maybe she should just turn around and let Cora come down here after all. Cora was nothing if not level-headed. She'd get things done, minimum fuss -

Sara almost didn't hear the footsteps behind her, but she _did_ hear them a split second too late. She spun around, reaching for the gun inside her jacket, only to find a barrel already at her forehead. It was the salarian that had run away from her earlier - which might not have been a problem, if not for the bulky human and bulkier krogan at his back.

Probably not Reyes' men, then.

"What do you want?" she hissed.

"Me? Nothing. My client? Don't know, don't care."

Sara hated herself for it, and it left a bad taste in her mouth, but she said it anyway. "You know what the Charlatan will do when he hears about this, right?"

"Pathfinder," SAM said on their private channel. "I have alerted Lieutenant Harper to your situation. Your squad should be here momentarily. Would you like me to contact Mr. Vidal?"

Sara shook her head frantically.

The salarian glanced nervously at his companions. "You bring the Oblivion?"

"Got it right here."

The krogan handed him a syringe, and Sara felt her insides shrivel up the moment she realized what was happening. They clearly weren't going to shoot her, so _fuck_ the gun to her head. She jammed her hand inside her jacket, biotics flaring -

The krogan clocked her in the side of the jaw, and Sara went flying. Her skull hit the wall with a _crack_ ; the rest of her hit the floor with a muffled thud. She groaned, her hand going to her head to try to feel out the damage, but one of them stepped on her wrist. She screamed in pain, kicking backwards with her heels and praying someone inside the bar might wonder about the noise, but she could barely hear herself over the drumming of the rain and the pounding of the music. She wanted to tell SAM to forget what she said before; to call for Reyes, even if she'd rather die than have him see her like this, but she couldn't form the words -

Then the salarian stuck the syringe in her neck.

It turned out that Oblivion was pretty fast-acting. Sara's vision went blurry almost immediately. Warmth washed over her, like a waterfall starting from the point of contact with the needle, and her limbs gave way like crumbling dams before a flood. She sighed quietly. Suddenly, the weight on her wrist was nothing. There was blood in her eyes, but that was fine. The pain in her head smoothed out, like a light wave red-shifting to infinity. Everything was fine.

She was lucid enough to wonder if they'd given her a fatal dose - but not lucid enough to feel afraid.

"Pathfinder," she heard SAM say. "You are on the brink of unconsciousness."

"That's okay," Sara murmured into the grate under her cheek.

Behind her, one of the thugs laughed. "She likes it."

"Just hurry the fuck up."

Someone with big arms and terrible body odour lifted Sara up and hoisted her over their shoulder. She dangled limply, her chin bouncing against their armour plating. It should have been painful, but she barely felt it. She was dizzy. _So_ dizzy.

And then she felt nothing at all.

 

* * *

 

Sara's first sensation on waking up was of being weightless. At first, she put it down to the lingering effects of the Oblivion. Then she bounced off something solid and realized she _was_ weightless.

"What the fuck?"

She opened her eyes - and it hurt. She was floating upside down in…a cage? A room? There were bars on one wall, so she supposed it was a prison, but the rest was made a solid rock. She felt for her gun, but it was gone, and the realization made her stomach fall down through her shoes. Or maybe rise up through her shoes. Either way, it was doing something stomachs were _not_ meant to do.

When she touched her forehead, her fingers found tenderness and dried blood. At least she wasn't still bleeding. There was a bruise on her wrist and a scab on the side of her neck. She was still dizzy. Maybe that was because she was upside down.

"SAM?" Her voice came out croaky. "Are…are we okay?"

"I believe so, Pathfinder." Sara could have collapsed with relief, if collapsing had been possible. "The injuries you sustained during your encounter outside Tartarus were not serious. However, there is still a large amount of Oblivion in your system. I have manipulated your physiological processes to minimize the impact on your system, but you are in need of medical attention."

"Great. Do you know why I'm upside down?"

"You were kidnapped, Pathfinder."

"Thanks, SAM, but that doesn't answer my question."

"The people who abducted you seem to have brought you to a location where local gravity approaches zero. Artificial gravity appears to be in use in the compound around you, but has been switched off within this room."

"Why?"

"Without additional data, I can only speculate."

"Speculate away."

"Perhaps they wish to disorient you."

" _After_ drugging me?"

"As I said, I can only speculate."

"Okay. So, where are we? Is the crew on their way?"

A moment of silence passed before SAM responded. "The rock in this particular area contains an extremely high percentage of lead and other heavy elements. While the QEC component of your implant allows me to stay in contact with you, the locator chip is unable to transmit your position. Furthermore, as you were unconscious during the journey to this location, I was not able to observe the kidnappers. I cannot be certain why the chip was not functioning before your arrival. It is likely that they employed some form of communications jamming technology."

Sara's mouth was suddenly very dry. "What are you saying, SAM?"

"I do not know where you are, Pathfinder."

Shit. "But the crew knows I'm alive, right?"

"Yes."

"And they _are_ looking, right?"

"Yes, Pathfinder. Both Initiative and Collective forces are conducting a sweep of the systems surrounding Kadara."

"Collective, too?" It was the most irrational feeling Sara had ever had, but she was _mortified._ "You told Reyes what happened?"

"Mr. Kosta informed Mr. Vidal, Pathfinder. It was not me."

"Great. Great, great, _great._ " Sara was drifting towards the ceiling this time, so she kicked it viciously. She regretted it almost immediately; Newton's Third Law sent her careening backwards into the floor, and she knocked her head painfully. "Great."

"Having a good time in there, Ryder?"

Sara almost leaped out of her skin. Bracing herself on the floor and twisting her wrist to turn herself around, Sara found herself face-to-toes with a turian. His new scars threw her off for a moment - but only for a moment.

"Kaetus."

"I didn't expect you to remember me." He hunkered down so that he was almost at eye level with her. Sara tried not to shrink away, but the impulse was almost overpowering. She'd never seen someone look quite so _hungry_. "But I remember you."

Sara lifted her chin. "No surprises there. I'm kind of a big deal."

Kaetus growled low in his throat, and a chill ran up Sara's spine. "Talking big won't help you now," he snarled quietly. "I heard you talking to that AI in your head. It can't find you, can it? And you can't transmit your position."

"Shows what you know," Sara snapped. She was a bad liar at the best of times, but she didn't have a lot of options. "If you let me out now, we'll show mercy. But if you make my crew fly all the way out here, things will get messy."

The turian scoffed, mandibles flexing. Sara was glad that SAM was controlling her heart rate, because otherwise she would have been a wreck. "You're not dealing with some junkie pirate, Ryder. You can't intimidate me."

Sara was losing her patience. "Why did you bring me here?"

"I'm going to kill you."

Sara almost swallowed her tongue. He said it so calmly; so _blankly_ , like cold-blooded murder didn't stir him at all. "So why the theatrics? Oblivion? A shielded prison? Zero-g?"

Kaetus smiled, in the only way that a turian could smile - with a gleam in his eye and a twist to his mandibles. On Vetra, it was cute. On Kaetus, it was terrifying. Sara shuddered.

"Keep wondering."

He stood up and turned to leave. Sara clawed her way over to the cell door and clung to the bars. "Where do you think you're going, Kaetus? We aren't done yet!"

He didn't turn, but he called something over his shoulder. "Believe me, Ryder. You _are_ done."

Sara kicked the bars - and, of course, it sent her flying backwards. She was ready for it this time, bracing herself for impact against the far wall. She floated aimlessly for a while, fuming. What was his game?

"Pathfinder, I believe that Kaetus may intend to keep you here for some time."

"Why do you say that, SAM?"

"A zero-gravity prison serves little purpose for a short-term incarceration. Several hours of weightlessness may disrupt your coordination. It is also likely to cause nausea, lethargy and vertigo. Several weeks, however, will have more severe effects. I may be able to counteract the damage to your immune and cardiovascular systems by adjusting your physiological responses myself. However there is little I can do to combat the accompanying loss of bone density and muscle mass."

"So…what? Kaetus wants me to feel like shit?"

"Perhaps. It is more likely that he hopes you will be unable to fight back when he decides that your time is up."

Sara tried to keep her breathing steady. There was no way she'd be here that long. She was the human Pathfinder, and her team were the best of the best. They'd tear the cluster apart looking for her - _surely_ \- and they had SAM to help them. Something was bound to shake loose sooner rather than later.

And then there was Reyes. He was looking for her, too.

"SAM?"

"Yes, Pathfinder?"

"Kaetus is waiting for Reyes, isn't he?"

When SAM spoke, he sounded as hesitant as an AI could. "Without additional data -"

"You can only speculate."

"That is correct."


	2. Did She Scream?

It was a rainy afternoon in Kadara Port. Reyes didn't particularly like rain, but he didn't hate it, either. He'd loved it, once; loved to fly through it, especially, and let his instincts guide him through the storm. But that had been another time and another place. Hell, it had been another _life_. He was beginning to understand why the angara believed in reincarnation.

Reyes was dwelling. He was wasting time. There were half a dozen emails sitting unanswered on his terminal, and he was afraid to answer them.

It was absurd, and the thought might have made him laugh if it wasn't so painful. He wasn't just _Reyes_ anymore; he was the Charlatan. He hated code names, but it had a certain ring to it. It carried a certain weight. He was an important person now, and he'd used that influence to free Kadara Port from a ruler that would have brought them all to ruin. He'd done something _big_ , and it didn't matter that he couldn't bask in the sunlight up on Sloane Kelly's throne.

Still, he'd hoped it would be sunshine and roses once Sloane was finally out of the way - or at least free drinks and pretty people. Sure, Kian was keeping the drinks coming, but he'd lost his taste for the latter. The only person he really cared to hear from right now was sending him emails about raiders. Reyes didn't want to hear about raiders. He wanted to talk about what happened in Draullir. He'd hurt her, and she'd shattered his heart on the floor.

That _seemed_ like something they should talk about - but Ryder's emails didn't mention it at all.

Reyes sighed heavily. He'd read the first one - and the second, and the third. After that, he'd stopped. He was trying to think of the right thing to say. Something that said _sure, I'll help you_ , but also said _I miss you so much._ Something that said _I'd die for your forgiveness_ without quite revealing how far gone he was.

He knew he'd made a mistake. But there had to be a way to fix it - because he didn't know what he'd do if there wasn't.

The terminal beeped again. Reyes had that hollow feeling in his gut that said it was probably another email from Ryder, but he glanced over just in case. It wasn't from Ryder at all. It was from her squadmate, Liam Kosta. Reyes opened the message, wondering if it might be easier to answer the Initiative's call for help if it came from someone whose lips he didn't long for.

 

_To: Reyes Vidal_

_From: Liam Kosta_

_Get on the vidcomm, Reyes. No time to explain. Someone took Sara from outside your bar._

 

It took Reyes a moment to process. Someone _took_ her?

He was at the comm almost before he'd finished the thought. He still remembered the Tempest's frequency; the last time he'd called it, his insides had been full of butterflies. He'd had that pleasant tension twisting in his stomach. He was tense now, alright, but it was definitely not the same.

Liam answered immediately. "Good. Listen -"

"What do you mean someone _took_ her?"

Somewhere on the other end of the line, an asari made a frustrated noise. Liam ignored her. "SAM says three kidnappers: a salarian, a human and a krogan. They grabbed her outside Tartarus and drugged her. SAM says she's unconscious, so he can't be sure exactly what's going on, and we can't get a read on her tracking chip. They're probably jamming it."

Reyes was already strapping on his holster. "Outside _my_ bar. How long has she been gone?"

"Just under twenty minutes." Liam sounded scared. "Our people have taken the Nomad out to look."

"They won't stay on Kadara," Reyes growled. The tightness in his stomach had turned to anger; cold and hard as a bullet. "They know what will happen when I find them."

"Dalton's watching departures from the docks."

"They'll try to bypass Dalton - so they'll want to launch from somewhere in the badlands." Reyes couldn't seem to move his mouth fast enough. He'd never had that problem before. "Have the Tempest scan for anything that looks like an LZ out there."

"Kadara is huge," Liam was saying - but Reyes was already out the door.

Tartarus' music was far too loud. Reyes usually liked the noise; it meant he was very hard to overhear. But today the bassline set his teeth on edge. The screeching melody made his head ache. It meant he hadn't heard Ryder scream.

 _Did_ she scream? Did she call to him for help?

"I'm headed out," he said to Kian as he passed. The bartender nodded. Something in Reyes' expression must have given him away, because Kian shrunk back on himself as Reyes leaned in closer. "Any new customers in today?"

"Uh, not so I've noticed."

"Any krogan?"

"Only old Kravok. Why?"

"If he comes back, let me know."

 

* * *

 

Reyes put his people to work. He didn't tell them exactly _why_ they were looking for Ryder, but he put the fear of god into them anyway. The Tempest's crew found half a dozen unregistered LZs out in the badlands, and the Collective went to investigate all of them. They couldn't be sure who might have been involved yet, so Reyes had them detain everyone they found. He _had_ to be sure.

Hours passed, then days, but Ryder stayed missing. Soon enough, Reyes had to admit that the kidnappers had slipped the net. So they widened it. The scouring of Kadara turned to a search of the Govorkam system. The Tempest left Kadara and buzzed from planet to planet like an angry firefly. Reyes almost wanted to go with them - but he could do better on his own. He borrowed a shuttle from Dalton and went out there himself, weaving between Collective and Initiative searchers like a dancer.

He wasn't even sure what he thought he'd find. He could still read complex sensor displays like a violinist reads music, but Heleus was full of anomalies that Reyes' past-self had never imagined. What exactly should he look for? A trail of whiskey bottles? A neon sign, perhaps?

Was she even still alive?

The Tempest claimed she was, because the Pathfinder AI hadn't been transferred to Ryder's second. Yet. Reyes almost cried when Kosta contacted him to say she was awake.

"They're still jamming her tracking chip," Liam said. The search seemed to be taking its toll on him; his normally cheerful manner was gone. "SAM can tell us more now that she's conscious. He says they're keeping her somewhere with low-g, but lots of heavy elements. Sounds like a mining zone, right? Maybe an asteroid? Only there's nothing like that in Govorkam."

Reyes nodded. He wanted to kick the shuttle console. He wanted to  _explode_ \- like going supernova might somehow bring her back - but he contained it. Now was not the time for passion. It was the time for careful thought and cautious planning. He couldn't make a mistake here, because he'd never forgive himself.

He kept thinking about all the ways this could have been avoided. He could have answered her emails. He could have done a better job of hiding her connection to the Collective. He could have _fucking_ protected her.

"How is she?" Reyes was afraid to hear the answer, but he had to know.

Liam hesitated. "SAM says she's alive, but she needs medical attention. Apparently she made him promise not to give us details."

Reyes' blood froze in his veins. "That doesn't sound good."

"Does sound like Sara, though. She doesn't want to scare us."

"And he can't tell you anything else about her location?"

"No. Apparently the heavy elements block SAM's EM sensors. Nothing gets in or out except the QEC line to SAM node."

Reyes didn't know what SAM node was, but it didn't seem important right now. "He can still help us. I trust he can access Initiative records? Have him check for anything with those mineral concentrations within two days' travel from Kadara."

"There's one more thing. Sara knows who kidnapped her. It was Kaetus."

"Son of a _bitch._ " Reyes did kick the console, then. Liam's face darkened, too. He felt it. "I'm going to _kill_ him."

"This is your fault," Liam snapped. "If you hadn’t -"

"I know," Reyes snarled - but then he sighed. "Tell me if you find anything. I'll have my people check Sloane's charts, too."

"Right."

The commlink cut out. Reyes wanted to cover his face with his hands. He wanted a _drink_. But this wasn't the time for passion.

At first, SAM's new information revitalized the search. With a rough gravity estimate and a vague idea of mineral composition, whole planets could be removed from the search zone - but days passed with no breakthroughs. Reyes' Collective contacts issued updates every day, but the language in their reports grew increasingly impatient. Keema sent messages from Kadara, wondering when he planned to return. After two weeks of searching, Keema finally asked the question.

_To: Reyes Vidal_

_From: Keema Dohrgun_

_I understand how you feel about her, Reyes. Believe me, I do. But have you considered that this may be an attempt to draw you away from Kadara Port?_

_What happens if you don't find her? How long will you stay gone?_

_Perhaps it is time to accept the possibility that you may not see her again._

 

The Tempest's communications were not much better. Kosta grew sullen and snappish, and Reyes began to suspect that he was not sharing everything the Tempest knew. Liam did confess that SAM suspected Kaetus was trying to lure Reyes in. Reyes wasn't surprised. The turian blamed Ryder for Sloane's death - but he blamed the Charlatan, too. Ryder was Kaetus' only chance to draw him out.

Maybe it should have made Reyes nervous - but it didn't. It gave him hope. As long as Kaetus wanted the Charlatan, he needed Ryder alive.

It puzzled him, too. If Kaetus wanted to lure the Charlatan in, why go to such pains to hide Ryder's location? Perhaps it was to keep the Initiative away, and to limit potential rescuers to the Charlatan himself. But if that was the case, Kaetus must be confident that the Charlatan had access to information the Initiative didn't; that he'd chase avenues of investigation the Tempest could not.

Or _would_ not.

 

_To: Keema Dohrgun_

_From: Reyes Vidal_

_Keema,_

_Will get back to you on your earlier message. For now, step up interrogations of the prisoners from the badlands landing zones. Kaetus has left us a weak link._

_I'm sure of it._


	3. The Price of Being the Charlatan

It was something of a relief to find that not much had changed on Kadara in the weeks that Ryder had been missing. The port still smelled like stale beer and sweaty smugglers, and Reyes found its constancy comforting. Keema had managed to make his absence feel dangerous, but it seemed that all was well.

 _If_ he ignored the tightness in his chest. If he ignored the little voice in his head that counted out the days like they were seconds to detonation. It had been almost four weeks, now. Twenty-six standard days. If Ryder had needed medical attention from day one, what state was she in now?

He'd only received one message from her. Her AI had relayed it via the public comm beacons rather than the Tempest. Perhaps she was attempting to bypass her crew's filters.

 _I'm okay,_ she'd said. _My crew will find me. Keep yourself safe._

He'd given SAM a very short answer. _You're a terrible liar, Ryder._

He hadn't gotten a reply.

There was a new fear building in Reyes' chest. What if he was too late? What if Kaetus grew tired of his game?

Would Kaetus kill her just to spite the Charlatan?

It was why he was so on edge today, flying out to the Collective base in the Draullir caves. Piloting still felt as natural as breathing - and as automatic, as well. That was very fortunate, because Reyes didn't remember the last time he'd slept more than four hours at a stretch. He was getting sloppy.

As far as Crux and her people knew, Reyes was just another representative of the Charlatan. They welcomed him curtly, barely bothering to hide their impatience with their fruitless search for the Pathfinder. Reyes didn't have to work very hard to reciprocate their feelings; he was _tired_. He was angry.

He was going to find Kaetus. It was not a question, and it was not matter of _ifs_ or  _maybes_. If Ryder lived, if Ryder died - if the universe imploded and the black hole swallowed them all - Reyes was going to find him.

And then he was going to kill him.

Reyes had never really thought he was the type for vengeance. It had always seemed like a bit of a waste of time. What was the saying? _Dig two graves_. When Reyes got even, he did it for _profit_. The people, though - they'd always said different. They were afraid of the Charlatan.

Maybe they'd been right all along.

Crux led him to the holding cells. The place had been cleared out, save for a single human tied to a chair in the middle of the room. He was bloodied and bruised; broken nose, blackened eyes and bleeding lip. The interrogator behind him had a cudgel in her hand. It was spattered with drying blood.

Reyes nodded to the interrogator as he entered. The man in the chair glanced up, blearily at first - but then his swollen eyes widened. As much as they could, at any rate.

"Reyes Vidal. You working for the Charlatan now?"

"We all work for the Charlatan now." Maybe Reyes should have known him, but all he saw was _scum_. According to Crux, this was one of the men who had abducted Ryder outside Tartarus.

He was Kaetus' weak link.

Reyes knelt down beside him, close enough to touch. Close enough to bite. He held out a hand to the interrogator - and after a moment, she handed him her knife. Reyes held it absently, but the man's eyes went to it anyway. It was a wonder he could see through all the swelling.

Reyes spoke very quietly. "The Charlatan knows what happened, friend. Kaetus paid you to grab her and send her off-world. He said it would be easy, right? That it would never come back to you."

The man was deathly pale. He'd relaxed a little when he recognized Reyes, but he heard the threat in his voice quite clearly - or maybe saw the fury in his eyes. "Listen, Reyes -"

"I'm all ears."

"You know what Kaetus is like now. I'm not saying I've worked with him, mind, but the guy went nuts when Sloane kicked the bucket. I've heard stories, man. I don't want him to think I'm telling lies about him. You get it, yeah? We're both men of the -"

Reyes laid the tip of the knife against the man's thumb; right before the last knuckle, where finger met palm. "That's where she'll cut you."

"What?"

"If you keep lying to me. That's where my colleague here -" he gestured to the interrogator - "will cut off your thumb. There's a lot of things people can't do without thumbs."

The kidnapper only stared at him, wide-eyed.

"Think about it. What have you used your thumbs for recently?"

"You can't be serious -"

Reyes stood up, beckoning to the interrogator. He returned her knife.

"Look, Reyes, I've never worked for Kaetus -"

Reyes turned away.

"No - look, _Reyes_ -"

The sentence ended in a scream; a desperate, blood-curdling howl that sent chills down Reyes' spine. This was what it cost, he reminded himself. This was the price of being the Charlatan.

This was the price of Ryder's life.

He didn't turn around until the screams gave way to sobbing. The kidnapper was hunched over in the chair, trying to cradle his bloodied hand - but the restraints held him back. The interrogator made a disgusted sound as she hurled his thumb across the room. It hit the wall with a wet _thud._ The kidnapper gave another keening cry.

Reyes spoke without passion, because this was not the time for it. "You still have one thumb left, friend. Where did Kaetus take her?"

"He - _fuck_ …"

"Go on."

"He says the Charlatan has to go alone."

The interrogator scoffed. "Or what?"

Reyes already knew the answer.

"Or he'll kill Ryder."

 

* * *

 

Sara was staring at the ceiling. She was no longer confused about which way was up and which way was down. The ceiling had fewer scratches than the floor did - probably because it had never had a crate dragged across it - and the back wall of her cell had little tally marks in it. She'd scratched those out herself. It had been hell on her fingernails, but she needed the anchor. She needed something to remind herself that she was still alive.

The worst of the zero-g sickness had worn off after about three or four days in her cell. She'd used her newfound vitality to start an exercise regime - to maintain her muscle mass, per SAM's advice - but Kaetus hadn't liked that. He'd switched on the artificial gravity just long enough to jam another syringe in her neck, and that had put Sara out cold for hours.

She was only allowed gravity to relieve herself, and occasionally when someone decided she needed a shower. She'd only laid eyes on Kaetus a few times since their earlier conversation; most of the everyday business of keeping Sara alive fell to his hired thugs. He definitely wasn't alone here, because she'd yet to see the same outlaw twice. She thought about escaping during those brief periods outside the cell, of course, but she didn't have a gun. They were barely feeding her enough to keep her breathing; any use of biotics would probably send her body into breakdown.

The Oblivion doses kept coming. SAM assured her he could dampen her dopamine receptors to prevent the onset of addiction, but Sara wasn't sure it was working. She looked forward to the needles just a little too much. It wasn't about the dopamine. It wasn't about chemical dependence. It wasn't even really about the Oblivion.

It was about the _oblivion_. The drug knocked her out more often than not, and she was pathetically grateful for the escape. Her crew were out there somewhere, probably going out of their minds with worry, and Sara didn't want to think about it. She was stuck here, and there was nothing she could do except wait.

Reyes was out there too. She'd tried to warn him off, because Kaetus clearly had plans for him.

_You're a terrible liar, Ryder._

"SAM?"

"Yes, Pathfinder?"

"How long have I been in here now?" She could count the tally marks, but she didn't have the motivation to hurl herself across the room.

"Approximately twenty-eight standard days."

"And how long until someone comes to shoot me up?"

There was a brief silence. "Based on established patterns, your next Oblivion dose is due within the hour."

Sara sighed. "Stop judging me, SAM."

"Your anticipation is not an encouraging sign, Pathfinder."

"Talk to me when you've been locked in a cage for a month. Hell - talk to me when you've been _upside down_ for a month."

"Pathfinder, you have spent 62.74 percent of your time in this cell oriented in accordance with ordinary gravity. Additionally, I have been here with you the entire time."

"Yes, but you're not _locked in_ here," Sara grumbled. "You can talk to people. You can play video games on your unused servers."

"I assure you that I am devoting the entirety of my processing power to locating Kaetus' compound."

Sara was about to bounce off the ceiling. She tilted her head to the side, taking the impact on her shoulder. She barely felt it. "Whatever."

"If you would like, I can relay messages for you. I am sure that the crew would be pleased to hear from you."

"No."

"Mr. Vidal, then?"

" _No_."

"I must point out the incongruence of complaining about boredom whilst also refusing to remedy it."

"The crew is busy - and I don't want to encourage you-know-who. He needs to stay away."

"Pathfinder, you know that I hold a great deal of respect for you. I continue to gain great insight into the human condition by observing your personal relationships, but I must admit to some confusion when it comes to your interactions with Mr. Vidal."

"Why is that?"

Sara was pressed almost flush against the ceiling now. The rock was tickling her nose. She wondered if she could get lead poisoning if she stayed like this for long enough. Suvi got sick after licking a Heleus rock, right? Could that happen to her?

"Do not lick the rock, Pathfinder."

"I wasn't going to."

"As I was saying: based on your exchanges with the Tempest's crew, and even with Mr. Vidal himself, you appear to hold him in contempt."

"Where's the confusion?"

"Pathfinder, I am inextricably linked to your neural and physiological processes. When I mention Mr. Vidal, you do not _feel_ contempt."

Sara let out an explosive breath. It was enough to propel her slowly towards the floor. She knew what was coming, but she barrelled into it anyway. "You're a machine, SAM. Maybe you're misinterpreting the signals."

"I do not believe so. Your response to Mr. Vidal varies depending on your mood, and depending on Mr. Vidal's tone. But the underlying pattern is the same."

"And what pattern is that?"

"It is very similar to what your father felt when he thought of Ellen Ryder."

Sara didn't bother to argue, because she knew he wasn't wrong. She could hate it as much as she wanted - hate _herself_ as much as she wanted - but it wouldn't change a thing.

"I would like to ask you a question, Pathfinder, but I suspect it may distress you."

"My next hit's coming soon, SAM. Ask away."

"I have yet to observe love that exists in the absence of pain. Are such relationships possible?"

"I don't know, SAM."

Sara wished she had a better answer.

She almost leapt out of her skin when an outlaw knocked on the bars of her cell. The woman had a syringe in her hand, but her stance was relaxed. Sara's captors had seemed afraid of her at first, but they had quickly learned that she wouldn't fight the injections. This one, an asari, wasn't even attempting to hide her face. She grinned at Sara from behind the bars, waving the syringe in the air like it was candy.

Sara fought the urge to kick the outlaw in the teeth as she propelled herself over to the bars. It felt strange, holding her arm out for the injection; with gravity only acting on the single limb, her wrist felt as heavy as lead.

"I guess you're not letting me go today."

The asari shook her head. "You're getting a lot of free product, Pathfinder. Don't be in such a hurry to leave."

The outlaw turned to go. With that, Sara was alone again. Drifting back up to the ceiling, she seriously considered licking the rock - until the Oblivion kicked in. She sighed quietly as the darkness overtook her; as her aching limbs and failing muscles drowned in an ocean of swelling warmth.

"Do me a favour, SAM?"

"What is it, Pathfinder?"

"If I don't make it out of here, you'll get transferred to Cora, right?"

There was a pause. "That is correct."

"If that happens, can you send a message for me? Without telling Cora."

"That is not standard protocol, Pathfinder. But yes. I can."

"Good." Sara smiled at the ceiling. She closed her eyes. "Tell Reyes I forgive him."


	4. Vena Cava

Sara awoke to a commotion. There was shouting somewhere beyond her cell. She could hear gunfire. She could hear the tell-tale crackle of failing shields; the shriek and sizzle of clashing tech. Sara sat bolt upright - and promptly hit her head on the ceiling.

"Whoa. Uhh, SAM?"

"Please do not attempt to move, Pathfinder. It has been less than an hour since your last dose of Oblivion. I am attempting to mitigate the effect on your system."

"I'm sensing a _but_ , SAM."

"But you have already been injected with enough of the drug to kill a human lacking AI assistance. Please. Do not attempt to move."

It all seemed to hit her, then. Her head swam and her stomach turned over itself; her brain almost shattered under the onslaught of sound. For a moment, all she wanted was to float there in silence and _die_ \- but she wasn't completely insensible.

"SAM?" He didn't immediately respond. "SAM!?"

"Yes, Pathfinder?"

"They've found me, haven't they?" There was a little bubble of hope forming in Sara's chest.

"No, Pathfinder. The Tempest is still unaware of your location."

"The Initiative, then?"

"If so, there is no record of it in any system I can access."

Shit. "What about Reyes?"

"Without additional data -"

"Okay."

Dimly, Sara wondered whether she could hide. If Reyes was here, Kaetus had what he wanted. She knew her cell from top to bottom and bottom to top, but she turned her head anyway, looking for whatever options she had. There was nothing, of course. Just bare rock and more bare rock; tallies on the wall and scratches on the floor. The movement sent her spinning, and that made Sara's head _pound_. She almost blacked out.

Then - quite suddenly - there was gravity, and Sara hit the floor with a _crack_. This time, she did black out.

She came to a moment later.

"SAM -"

A hand closed around her neck - or more accurately, a claw. Sara choked on a scream, futilely pulling at the vice around her throat as the face above her swam into focus. It was Kaetus, of course. Sara was flat on her back, and he was staring down at her with murder in his eyes. He had a pistol in his other hand.

Sara's head was still spinning. She couldn't think. She couldn't breathe, either, which Kaetus seemed to realize. Perhaps he was reluctant to lose her to asphyxiation when a bullet would be so much more satisfying, because he reduced the pressure on her throat.

Sara snarled at him as best she could. "Finally going to do it, then?"

Kaetus growled wordlessly and dragged her across the floor. Sara's vision blurred as her spine scraped along the rock, but she eventually realized what he was doing. He was arranging himself to face the cell door.

She tugged at Kaetus' talons again, struggling to find some space to breathe. "Told you it would get messy if you made my crew fly out here."

The turian barked. Maybe it was meant to be a laugh. "Good one, Ryder. You and I both know it’s not your crew out there."

Sara's stomach was trying to claw its way up through her throat - or maybe burrow out between her ribs - but she did her best to hide her terror. It almost helped that she could barely see. "Who is it then?"

Kaetus didn't seem to hear her. Maybe he couldn't. Sara's voice was barely loud enough to be a whisper, and the sounds of battle were getting louder. "I told him to come alone, you know. Told him I'd kill you if he brought back-up _._ Guess the Charlatan knows I'm going to do it anyway. Or maybe he doesn't care as much as I thought."

Fuck - was she actually starting to cry? There were tears running from the corners of her eyes. She was shaking like the first time dad brought them to visit Earth; when she'd walked through springtime snowfall in shorts and a t-shirt.

Kaetus wasn't finished. "Or maybe he's still sore about your fling with Reyes Vidal. Everybody saw how that turned out. I wouldn't have expected him to bother with you after that, but you're still the Charlatan's favourite girl."

"Shut up," Sara rasped. "If you're ready to kill me, just get it fucking over with."

"Not yet," Kaetus growled. The talons tightened on her throat again. "He's got to be here when I shoot you. He's got to see it."

"He's not here," Sara whispered. She knew it was a lie. She could feel it buried deep inside her, lurking somewhere between her ribs. Reyes was here.

Reyes was _here_.

"He's not that stupid," she hissed anyway. "And you wouldn't know him if he was, because you don't know who he is! How do you tell a lackey from a leader? A liar from a Charlatan?"

"I'll know him when I see him," Kaetus snarled. "I wasn't there when you let him kill Sloane, but I know exactly what this is going to feel like for him. I know exactly how it hurts to have the person you love taken away from you. I'll see it in his _eyes_."

It was in that moment that Sara decided she didn't care if the effort killed her. She was going to use her biotics to put the turian through a _wall_. She was going crush him into a paste that Cora would praise at her funeral -

But SAM was in her ear. "I know what you are thinking, Pathfinder. Unfortunately, it will not work. Malnutrition is no longer the problem. The Oblivion in your system will halt any attempts to manipulate a biotic field."

Sara tried anyway - and almost passed out again. Her vision wasn't just blurring now - it was _breaking_ , and the stars behind her eyes had turned into supernovae. She couldn't move her arms anymore; couldn't fight back when Kaetus jammed the barrel of his gun into her stomach.

She was definitely crying now. "SAM - just tell him to run! Please!"

"That's right, Ryder." Kaetus was right up in her face; crushing her into the floor like a lion bleeding a gazelle. "Scream louder. Let him know where you are."

Sara bit down hard on her lip. She'd go to her grave before she helped Kaetus hurt him.

The turian ground the gun harder against her stomach. "This," he growled, "is exactly where that sniper shot Sloane. I did my homework. A few inches in from here is your inferior vena cava. Big vein. It'll bleed you out fast."

"So _fucking shoot me."_

A gunshot rang out - but it didn't come from above her.

It came from behind her.

Kaetus jerked backwards, dark blue blood welling just above his carapace. His turian eyes narrowed - then went wide. His grip on her throat went slack.

"Reyes Vidal?"

Sara's heart leapt. She wanted to struggle, but her Oblivion-heavy limbs refused to obey her. If she could get herself free, she could hit Kaetus in the face before he died.

Another gunshot. Sara looked for Kaetus' new wound - but she couldn't find it.

"Pathfinder," SAM said in her head. "I am attempting to slow your heart rate and blood flow. I need you to lie still."

"But SAM -"

Then she felt it. A glacial weight in her abdomen, right beside her spine; a burning pain around it, like melting ice clinging to a comet. Her breath left her in a rush, like someone had punched her in the chest.

Like someone had shot her in the stomach.

_Another_ gunshot - and Kaetus fell backward with a bullet in his forehead. Sara didn't feel it when his weight was finally gone. She was staring at the ceiling, just struggling to breathe.

SAM was still talking in her skull. "The Collective has alerted the Tempest to your whereabouts. You are in an asteroid field near H-047c."

Did SAM really think she cared where she was anymore? Sara wondered if he knew how human he sounded. He must, because he was still inside her head. Shouldn't he be transferring to Cora?

"Sara!"

She was almost shocked when Reyes appeared at her side. Maybe it was the Oblivion, but he didn't seem real - or maybe Sara was finally seeing clearly. He'd always been too beautiful to be real.

"Sara - _shit._ Just…don't move." His hand was on her shoulder, pressing her into the floor. Sara was suddenly sure she'd fall right through it; that the black hole would pull at her until she finally fell apart. "I'm here. I'm sorry I'm late."

"Reyes," she whispered. When did talking become so hard? "Reyes -"

"Please, don't talk."

She could pinpoint the moment that his fingers found her wound, because his face went suddenly slack. His eyes turned suddenly dull.

"Reyes."

His fingers grasped hers. They were slick with blood. _Her_ blood. "Yes?"

"I love you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for ending it there! I know, I am a terrible human being. Don't give up yet guys - more coming!


	5. Aerial Manoeuvre

"Shit. Shit, shit, _shit_." Reyes pressed down on her side as firmly as he could. He was no medic - but it was about stemming blood flow, right? It was about keeping her life inside her long enough for help to come.

He removed one hand just long enough to thumb the button on his comm. "I need the doctor here _now_."

_Reyes. I love you._

Fuck. There was blood all over the floor already.

Sara was staring at the ceiling with eyes that didn't see. She was clutching at his desperate fingers, lips working soundlessly.

"It's okay," he rasped. She already knew he was a liar. What harm was a few more black marks against his name? "I've got you. I've got you."

His comm crackled. "Sorry, Reyes. Doc's down."

"Are you _fucking_ kidding me?" Reyes' heart was beating so hard he could swear he felt his teeth vibrating. "ETA on the Tempest."

"No idea. Long-range comms aren't working."

"Just - bring me all the medi-gel we've got!"

"Mr. Vidal." Reyes flinched, looking around for a new threat - but the voice was coming from Sara's omnitool. "It will be two hours and forty-seven minutes before the Tempest arrives in the Remav system. It is difficult to provide an estimate of the time the ship will require to navigate the asteroid field. This problem may not have presented itself had you involved the crew of the Tempest from the beginning."

"You're SAM, I take it."

"Yes."

Sara moaned - and Reyes forgot all about the AI. He redoubled the pressure on her wound. "Reyes -"

"Shh, Sara. Just hold still." He could barely speak around the lump in his throat. If she died -

If she died because of _him_ -

"I'm bleeding out, aren't I?" Sara's lips were pale. "He hit my vena cava. I expected it to hurt more than this."

Her AI couldn't leave well enough alone. "Pathfinder, there is enough Oblivion in your system to incapacitate a small horse. Furthermore, I am attempting to desensitize your pain receptors."

Sara sighed. "Go away, SAM."

"I cannot leave, Pathfinder. Additionally, I have business with Mr. Vidal."

"What business?" Reyes snapped. And where was that medi-gel? Maybe one of his operatives had some basic medic training. Maybe one of Keema's angara -

"Contrary to the Pathfinder's statement," the AI said, "the bullet did not hit her vena cava. Kaetus was not the xenoanatomist he believed himself to be, and the bullet in his chest forced him to fire at an angle."

Reyes dragged down what felt like the first breath he'd taken since Kaetus shot her. "That's good, right?"

"Yes."

"Should she be bleeding this much?"

"Yes. Most of the impact was taken by the right lobe of the Pathfinder's liver. As I am sure a man like yourself is aware, the liver plays a vital role in the breakdown of toxins. It also performs a variety of other functions."

"I don't need a science lesson," Reyes hissed. Sara had closed her eyes. Her eyelids were fluttering weakly.

"As a result, the liver receives a very large blood supply. This would account for the heavy bleeding. Medi-gel can be used to stem the bloodflow until the Tempest arrives, at which point surgery can be performed in the ship's medical bay. Given my ability to slow the Pathfinder's heart rate, it is highly likely that she will survive the wait."

"Thank god," Reyes breathed. He didn't quite manage a sigh of relief - Sara's blood was still leaking between his fingers - but he did manage a smile. Sara opened her eyes just long enough to smile back.

"Guess you're not rid of me yet," she murmured.

"Or SAM," Reyes whispered back. "Your AI is a little sassy."

"I don't know where he gets it from. How about that medi-gel?"

He pressed the button on his comm again. "ETA on _you_?"

"Two minutes!"

"Mr. Vidal, I was not finished."

Reyes' heart sank. "Oh?"

"I have now had the chance to analyse the bullet. Since the coup on Kadara, Kaetus has lived in exile's exile. It appears that he and his outlaws found it necessary to purchase bullets made with black market ore from Eos."

"So?"

"You may be aware that black markets are not subject to the same quality assurance and safety regulations that govern legitimate transactions. The bullets Kaetus purchased appear to have been machined from highly radioactive material."

Shit. "But…two or three hours of that is about as dangerous as a picnic on Eos, surely?"

"Under normal circumstances, you would be correct. However, the high amounts of Oblivion in the Pathfinder's system, combined with my efforts to limit her heart rate, have resulted in lower than normal blood pH. This has both impaired her body's ability to break down the drug and increased the rate at which the bullet is corroding."

"What does that _mean_?" Reyes hissed. Whatever relief he'd felt earlier had utterly evaporated.

"If the bullet is allowed to remain in the Pathfinder's body while you wait for the Tempest to arrive, the metal will continue to corrode. Even if you stem the bleeding, the radioactive nuclei will enter her bloodstream and be distributed throughout her cardiovascular system. They will prove impossible to remove after the fact.

"I estimate she will survive no more than two or three weeks, even should Dr. T'Perro successfully remove the bullet."

Sara covered his hands with hers, her fingers slipping across his skin. There was so much blood.

"So…she bleeds to death, or she dies of radiation poisoning?"

"Yes."

Death wasn't good enough for Kaetus. Reyes would follow him into the afterlife for this. He'd teach the turian the true meaning of pain. He'd delve the deepest reaches of Heleus' black hole; reach into the lowest planes of hell and drag him screaming into the dark -

"But there is a third option, Mr. Vidal. You could remove the bullet _before_ you stem the bleeding."

"My medic's dead, SAM." Reyes' hands were shaking. "I'm sorry, Sara. This is all my -"

"There is no time to attribute blame." The AI was intent. "There are needle-nose pliers on the worktable outside this cell."

It was the universe's worst cliché, but Reyes could have sworn that time slowed to a crawl. It was like standing poised on the edge of a hundred-foot drop; like that endless moment of zero-g at the peak of an aerial manoeuvre.

Then Sara pried his fingers loose, replacing them with hers. "What are you waiting for?"

"Shit." Reyes dragged himself away from her and stumbled to his feet. "Shit, shit -"

He almost collided with his salarian Collective contact on his way to find the pliers. Mortan had a satchel of medi-gel looped over his shoulder. He took one look at the blood on Reyes' clothes - and blanched. He took a step backwards.

"I'm sorry, Reyes." It wasn't sympathy in his voice; it was fear. "I ran all the way here, I swear -"

Reyes didn't let him finish. He snatched up the medi-gel and headed for the work station. It took several tense minutes to find the pliers; they were hidden away in the back of a toolbox in one of the slide-out compartments. Mortan hovered over Reyes' shoulder the whole time.

"She's alive," Reyes muttered, and the salarian visibly relaxed. "Come with me. Wait -is that a welding torch? Bring that with you."

Half way back, he paused. "Wait. No."

He didn't want to scare her any more than he already had to. He shucked off his jacket and wrapped it around his hands; extra protection on top of his gloves. Clutching the pliers by the handle, he held them out in front of him.

"Get these nice and hot."

Mortan's eyes were even wider than normal. "Uh. How hot?"

It was a good question. "I'm…not sure. What temperature will kill most Milky Way bacteria?"

"Do you think _all_ salarians are biologists?"

"I don't have time to fuck around," Reyes snapped. "You're an engineer, Mortan. Take your best guess."

"I don't know. Maybe one-fifty C?"

"Do it, then."

"I think that real sterilization normally takes around ten minutes."

"We don't have that long."

Sara didn't appear to notice Mortan when Reyes returned. If anything, she was paler than before. Her hands were still pressed to her abdomen, but her fingers were trembling. He could see their pressure faltering.

The rock beneath her was turning black.

Reyes was back at his place beside her in a heartbeat, leather scraping across the floor as he carefully removed his gloves. All his instincts screamed at him to cover that hole in her side. Reyes wouldn't have been surprised to hear there was a bullet in _his_ chest, really. The terror was the same.

Sara's eyes were closed, but they fluttered open when his fingers skimmed her cheek. They widened in alarm when she saw the pliers. She could clearly feel their heat.

"You sterilized them, huh?"

"Yes. I hate to point it out, but…this is going to hurt."

Sara winced. "SAM? Please just knock me out again."

"I need to talk Mr. Vidal through the process, Pathfinder. It will be easiest to do so while you are conscious. I will do my best to suppress your pain response."

"One of my…friends is here," Reyes said quietly. Mortan knelt down on Sara's other side and offered her a frightened smile. "I need him to -"

"You need him to hold me down," Sara supplied. Her voice was barely a whisper. "Go ahead," she said to Mortan. "I won't bite."

She put on a brave face, but her breath left her in a shaky sigh as Mortan pressed down on her shoulders. Her hands shook as she pulled them away from her wound and spread them against the floor.

"All right, SAM." Reyes wasn't quite sure what to do, but he knew he had to be within easy reach of the bullet hole. He clambered over to Sara's injured side, pliers clutched in his shaking fingers. He had to stop the shaking. He needed a steady hand.

He took a deep breath. "Tell me what to do."

"You will need to gain access to the wound. I recommend you tear away the lower section of the Pathfinder's shirt."

Reyes obeyed. The sodden material resisted his efforts at first, but it eventually gave way.

"Try to obtain a relatively dry portion of the cloth. It will be easier for you to see what you are doing if you clean some of the blood from the outside of the wound."

Easy for SAM to say. All Reyes could see was blood. Still, he followed the AI's advice. The wound was astonishingly small; no wider than Reyes' fingernail. His trembling fingers brushed the edges of the torn flesh, and Sara hissed through her teeth. The cords in Mortan's arms were beginning to show.

"Buy me a drink first," Sara whispered softly.

Reyes did his best to laugh. "Just a drink? What about dinner? You don't want to get a reputation…"

She grimaced. "I'm not one to push my chances. If I can get you to pay for a drink, I'll consider it a victory." Reyes lifted the pliers, trying to disguise his ragged breathing, and she shied away from the heat. "I _really_ need a drink, Reyes."

"When we get back," Reyes whispered. "Anything you want."

"Mr. Vidal," SAM cut in, ignoring Sara's whimpers. "Before you enter the bullet's track, I will provide you with the necessary angle adjustments. I will continue to provide suggestions as you proceed, and alert you when you have reached the bullet.

You will need to move quickly. If the Pathfinder loses consciousness, my ability to assist you will be greatly impaired."

Sara showed them her teeth. "Don't let me pass out, SAM."

"I will do my best, Pathfinder."


	6. Ketos

Later, Reyes would tell her he couldn't remember what it was like to dig the bullet out of her side. He'd claim to forget the way everything _sizzled_ when the pliers pierced her flesh; the way she shrieked as he pushed the tool deeper, and how Mortan's shoulders bunched while he struggled to hold her still. He'd wish it was the truth, of course.

But Reyes remembered all of it.

Tears left tracks down her cheeks as she screamed, and SAM had to crank up the volume on her omnitool. "Tilt your wrist upwards by one degree, Mr. Vidal."

"Seriously? I can't eyeball one degree, SAM!"

"Continue. Stop. Adjust a further one degree upwards. The obstruction you feel is shredded muscle. You will need to push it aside."

Sara was awake for all of it, eyes wide and rolling; lips spilling quiet pleas for mercy. If Reyes could have given it to her, he would. He would have given anything. But reality narrowed to a diamond-point as he knelt there beside her. The universe gave way to almost holy purpose.

It was terrible.

But it was the price of Sara's life.

Then, finally, SAM said the magic words. "You have reached the bullet, Mr. Vidal. You now need to grip it with the teeth of the pliers."

"Hah!" Sara panted. "I - mother _fucker_ , SAM - I'm still awake!"

Mortan's mouth was slightly agape. He stared at her in undisguised shock.

Reyes swallowed his horror, manipulating the pliers as delicately as he could. Needle-nose they might be, but they tapered to a wider base near the handles. The entry wound was larger than it had been when Reyes started. Sara choked back another scream as the pliers twisted inside her, but -

"You have it," SAM said. "Do not attempt to remove it yet."

"Why not?" Reyes panted. His hair was dangling down over his forehead and sticking to his skin, but he made no attempt to brush it aside. He was afraid to move.

"Removing the bullet will precipitate an increased rate of blood loss. I recommend that your assistant prepare the medi-gel before we proceed any further."

Reyes nodded at Mortan, and the salarian released Sara's shoulders, frantically snatching up the satchel of medi-gel. Sara looked up at Reyes while they waited. A muscle in her neck was standing taut.

"This isn't what I meant when I said we should be playing doctor," Sara murmured.

"You're delirious," Reyes said flatly. "Why are you trying to make me laugh?"

"You're pretty when you laugh." She sounded almost relaxed. "You're always pretty."

Reyes tried to smile. "Don't tease me at a time like _this_."

Mortan held out a tube of medi-gel, cap already removed. Reyes took it with his free hand. He looked down at Sara, only to find that her eyes were closed. His heart leapt up into his throat. "SAM?"

"She is still conscious, Mr. Vidal, but it will not be for long. I advise you to proceed."

"Here goes nothing," Reyes whispered - and pulled.

Sara screamed as he dragged the bullet free, but Reyes threw both the metal and the pliers across the room as soon as they emerged. He planted his bloodied hand on her chest, pushing her flat against the floor, and swiftly injected the gel into the wound. The effect was almost immediate; medi-gel was both a numbing- and a sealing-agent, and Sara let out a whimpering sob as the pain began to recede. She went limp, head lolling on the floor, as Mortan watched on in horror.

"SAM?" Reyes demanded. "SAM!"

"One moment," SAM replied. "I am assessing the Pathfinder's condition."

The pause that followed could only have lasted a split second, but to Reyes it felt like an eternity. Sara's breathing had slowed, though. The bleeding appeared to have stopped.

Finally, SAM continued. "Well done, Mr. Vidal. The procedure appears to have been a success."

" _Shit,_ " Reyes whispered. He fell back onto his haunches, on the verge of collapse himself. He waved absently at Mortan. "Go back to the others," he ordered. "Sweep the entire base, then send teams to the other asteroids. I want to make _sure_ this place is empty. Then prepare for the Tempest's arrival."

Mortan nodded frantically. "Of course."

"And Mortan - thank you. Truly. But not a word of this to anyone. Ever."

When Mortan was gone, Reyes crawled over to Sara's side. She was breathing shallowly, fingers clenching and unclenching against the rock. "Reyes?"

"I'm here."

"It still hurts."

"I know." Reyes squeezed more medi-gel onto her stomach. As carefully as he could, he began spreading it over the area surrounding the wound. "Does that help?"

"A little."

Reyes was aching all over. His limbs were tingling with unused adrenaline. Truth be told, it felt like he'd just jumped out of a shuttlecraft; like he'd tumbled through the centre of a vortex with his heart clutched in his hands. He lay down on his side, one hand idly tracking gel across Sara's skin. They were both still covered in blood.

Shit. It was really over, wasn't it?

"ETA on the Tempest, SAM?"

"Approximately two hours and fifteen minutes, in addition to the time required to navigate the asteroid field."

Sara was shivering. "I don't want to fall asleep," she whispered.

"You should," Reyes said quietly. "You've…well."

"Been through a lot?"

"That _is_ what I was going to say."

"Please, just talk to me."

"What should I talk about?" Their last real conversation had been in a damp cave in Draullir. Even if Reyes was capable of talking right now, he wasn't sure he'd know what to say.

"Anything."

Reyes sighed. He rolled over so he was lying on his back, gazing up at the ceiling with her. His hand still traced faint circles through the gel on her stomach, but he didn't feel much. The medi-gel was working its magic on him, too. "I could tell you a story, I suppose."

"What about?"

"What would you like to hear?"

Sara made a thoughtful sound. When Reyes glanced at her, her eyes were only half open, but she was staring upward like a stargazer at distant constellations. "Tell me about when you woke up. When you first saw Andromeda."

Reyes clicked his tongue. "Well, waking up wasn't fun."

"The Scourge got you?"

"I was asleep for that. The Nexus woke me up a little later. 'Go explore the cluster,' they said. 'We need food. Why yes, that _is_ the Pathfinder's job, but we don't have one of those.'"

"So did you?"

"Explore the cluster? For a time. Heleus _is_ beautiful. Things were…tense, back then, and I was glad of the chance to see it."

"What was it like?"

Reyes smiled at the ceiling. "You've seen far more of Heleus than I have, Pathfinder. It would be like describing a puddle to someone who has crossed the ocean."

Sara sighed quietly. "Come on."

Reyes chuckled. "Do you remember the first time you looked down on Earth?"

"I was born on the Citadel," Sara murmured. "Does visiting count?"

"The first time you looked down on the Citadel, then."

"Yes."

"There's nothing quite like it, is there? Looking down on the place you came from…seeing everything you've ever known reduced to the size of your palm." He could see Sara's smile from the corner of his eye. She was clearly drifting towards sleep, and Reyes wasn't sure if he should stop her. "Sara?"

"Yes," she replied blearily. "Nothing like it."

"But diving into Heleus was better. Even with the Scourge scattered across it…it was beautiful. And everywhere I went, the black hole was always there. Have you stopped to think about how incredible that is? That you can _see_ a black hole from low-orbit?"

Sara chuckled quietly. "Now that you mention it…"

"The Nexus astronomers call it Ketos, after some Greek sea monster. The angara call it the Fisher's Lure. I can't decide which one I prefer."

"Reyes?"

"Yes?" He could see her eyelids fluttering. It would not be long, now.

"Are you happy? Now that…now that Sloane's gone. Now that you have what you wanted."

Something twisted _tight_ in Reyes' chest - and for a moment, he wondered if he should check for bleeding. His hand stopped its slow circumference of her stomach. "Ah, Sara. What _is_ happiness, really?"

"Reyes -"

"No, really. I'd like to know what you think."

Sara hesitated. "It's hope," she whispered eventually. "It's a reason to keep going."

"Hmm. Then yes." Reyes removed his hand and let it fall to the floor instead. It wasn't quite numb yet; just chilled and faintly tingling. "I am the happiest man there is - but I can assure you that it has nothing to do with the situation in Kadara Port."

They lay there in silence for a time. Sara's eyes drifted shut. Her breathing slowed. Reyes sighed quietly. He wished that he could go to sleep as well; just curl up beside her and let the aches and pains all ebb away - but that was quite clearly a daydream. He wondered what he would say to the crew of the Tempest when they arrived. Perhaps they would be so overjoyed to have their Pathfinder back that they forgot to blow up at Reyes.

The odds weren't good.

He was startled when she spoke up again. "This can't change anything."

"What?" Maybe Reyes _did_ doze off; he felt as if she'd parachuted him into a conversation halfway through. "Why not?"

"I'm the Pathfinder," Sara said softly. "And you're…who _you_ are."

"So?"

"You're Andromeda's answer to the Shadow Broker," she said in a rush. She swallowed visibly. Beside him, Reyes could feel her hand clutching at the floor. "You're a fucking _crime lord_ , Reyes! And I'm meant to be a leader."

"And?"

"Damn it! There is no _and_." She caught herself, just barely, on the edge of a sob - but Reyes could see it. She squeezed her eyes shut.

"Let me ask you something."

"It's not like I can stop you," she mumbled.

Reyes kept his voice low. Even now, he couldn't escape the fear that someone might be lurking around the corner. "If I was not the Charlatan," he murmured, "and you were not the Pathfinder. If you were just Sara Ryder, and I was just Reyes Vidal. Would you love me?"

Sara looked like she was holding her breath. She turned to look at him. Reyes wondered if she felt the same pull that he did when he looked into her eyes. Because it _was_ a pull; as persistent and pervasive as the black hole in the sky.

"Yes." Her answer came out breathy - like it was forced from her lips by a sudden and overwhelming pain. "Yes."

Reyes didn't push the issue. She was hurting, and - _shit_ \- so was he. It's the adrenaline, he told himself. It's the medi-gel. It's the fucking bullet on the floor.

"But we were talking about happiness," he whispered to her. "Are _you_ happy, Pathfinder?" She didn't respond, but those fingers she'd been holding on the ground brushed against his wrist. Reyes gathered them up, wondering why he insisted on making his own life so painful. "Can you ever be happy, _truly_ , if you live your life for other people?"

"Yes," Sara hissed, turning back to face the ceiling. She was crying - and Reyes felt suddenly and intensely guilty. "Because what else is there?"

Reyes didn't reply. He couldn't.

They drifted there together, gazing sightlessly upward, until Sara finally fell asleep. At one point, Reyes thought she squeezed his hand - but he must have been mistaken. Still, he whispered in her ear as he climbed to his feet.

"There's me."


	7. Lost A Fight With A Krogan

The world was awash with subtle grey shifts and bursts of pale light. Sara was floating in a tide of nerveless comfort, where thoughts ended in pleasant ellipses and gentle sighs. Nothing hurt. Sara had a feeling she should find that strange, but she couldn't remember why. She was lying down somewhere, apparently; she could feel soft fabric beneath her skin.

The voices were dim, at first, and difficult to decipher. They started as a low and quiet hum, uniform and unintelligible, but eventually Sara started to recognize separate sounds. She wasn't sure how long she lay there, just listening and breathing and being, but she slowly began to pick up whole sentences.

"Is this really the correct timeline?"

"It is." Sara knew that voice. Cora?

"Then I'm not sure I understand. How did you find her?"

For a moment, there was silence. Sara had a feeling it should have been an awkward silence, but she was still drifting in a world of warmth and comfort.

"A tip-off, Director Tann." Was that Scott talking? "One of our contacts on Kadara was able to point us to Remav."

Tann made a thoughtful sound. "I would suggest you look into this contact of yours. There are only a few ways they could have known the Pathfinder's whereabouts."

"We're all over it," Scott said.

The voices faded, then. When Sara next came to, her situation was not nearly as pleasant. Her gentle, low-contrast cloud thinned out like watery nutrient paste. When she tried to turn away, glimpses of reality shone through - and it was starting to hurt. Why did everything hurt so much?

"Hey," someone said softly. "Are you awake?"

Sara wanted to ask who was talking, but she couldn't seem to make her face move the way she wanted it to. She managed to make some quiet, nonsense sound.

"Lexi? Is she okay?"

"She's fine, Liam. I'm starting to lower her sedative dosage, that's all. Just let her sleep."

Things went downhill from there. Sara couldn't have said how long it took - hours, maybe, or days - but the comforting warmth slowly ebbed away. The grey haze broke into wispy threads, then finally dispersed completely. Everything was _loud._ There were machines humming and consoles beeping. Someone sighed quietly.

Sara groaned. Footsteps followed, and something scraped against the fabric by her head. "Sara. Can you hear me?"

"Yeah." Her voice came out croaky and weak - and it made her brain _throb_.

"Can you open your eyes?"

Sara tried. "It hurts."

"You've been asleep for some time now, Sara. Your eyes will adjust."

Sara grumbled, but she tried again. She'd never thought she would ever have to blink _resolutely_ , but that was what she did. Eventually, she managed to focus on Lexi's face.

"Welcome back, Pathfinder."

"It's good to be - ahh, _fuck_. No it's not."

Lexi's eyebrows quirked upwards slightly. Somehow, they managed to form a comforting expression, but she definitely didn't smile. "I should warn you. Everything's going to hurt for a little while."

She wasn't exaggerating. Everything _did_ hurt. Dad always said you could ignore a headache by biting the inside of your cheek. _A little pain to distract from the big pain_ \- his favourite home remedy. Sara gave it a try, but it didn't help at all.

There was a hot, throbbing soreness somewhere near Sara's stomach. The rest of her just ached - persistently. Inexorably. Her limbs felt like wet noodles. Her face felt like it was coated in sand. When Lexi spoke, it made Sara's ears ring - and when Sara spoke, her head threatened to explode.

"Give me…give me the prognosis, doc."

"You're going to be fine, Sara." Lexi did smile, then, and that was what made Sara believe her. "You've been unconscious for a little over a week."

"Oh my god…"

"Trust me when I say that a week is _not_ a long convalescence - and without the extra sleep, you'd be feeling much more pain."

Sara squeezed her eyes shut again. It helped - but only slightly. "Give me the status report, then. Don't leave anything out."

"Hmm." Sara could hear Lexi tapping at her datapad. "I'm not sure you'll be awake long enough for that. How about I give you the highlights?"

"Fine."

"We conducted surgery to repair the damage inflicted by the gunshot - amongst other things. It was a success, but you'll still need time to recover. You'll be glad to hear that SAM believes he can accelerate the healing process."

Sara nodded. She _was_ glad to hear that.

"The Oblivion the outlaws gave you -" Lexi paused, there, and Sara felt an answering tension somewhere in her throat. She didn't want to dwell on the subject, and it was clear that Lexi didn't either. "It's left your system, now. I want you to let me know if you feel anything…out of the ordinary."

"Real talk, Lexi - I kind of feel like I'm _dying_. How do I know what's out of the ordinary?"

"The pain will fade eventually. Small things will become more apparent." Lexi had a talent for sounding both calming and sad at the same time. Sara wished she could ignore that second part.

"Where did they even _get_ all that Oblivion?"

"Unfortunately, that's an answer that I don't have."

Sara sighed. She wanted to open her eyes and ask more questions, but she was starting to drift away again. "How long until I can get out of here?" she mumbled.

"We'll move you back to your quarters in a few days. For now, just take the chance to rest. We're glad to have you home."

Lexi's footsteps echoed on the floor as she moved away. After a few minutes of quiet - and _painful_ \- silence, Sara heard the med-bay door whisk open.

"I'll be back soon," Lexi said softly. The door hissed faintly as it closed behind her.

Sara's thoughts were beginning to fragment. She'd never been in this much pain in her life, except -

"SAM?"

"Yes, Pathfinder?"

"Is it normal for people to imagine things when they're in stressful situations?"

"I have little expertise in the field of psychology, Pathfinder. You would be more likely to benefit from another conversation with Dr. T'Perro."

"Let me ask another way, then. Did Reyes really pull a bullet out of me?"

"Yes."

"…Okay." Sara wasn't sure how to feel about that. Mostly, she just felt shocked - and sore. No wonder she hurt so much.

"Mr. Vidal has returned to Kadara Port. He asked me to assure you that all is well."

"That's…good."

Sara could barely form the words. The doctor's sedatives brought her an easy, dreamless sleep, but her thoughts continued to wander; through twinkling lights and a starry expanse, until she finally passed out and it faded to black. When sleep overtook her, she was trying to remember what it felt like when Reyes held her hand.

 

* * *

 

"Oh my god, Sara. You look someone ran you over with the Nomad."

Sara grunted something unintelligible - but it was meant to be _screw you, Scott._

Her brother was sitting on the edge of her bed in the med-bay. He was trying his best to hide a grin. "You look like you lost a fight with a krogan."

Sara sighed. "And?"

"You look like you…ah, shit, I forgot my last one."

"Like I fell off a cliff without my jump jet?"

Scott laughed, reaching out to slap her on the arm - but stopped himself at the last moment. "Yeah. That works."

Sara sat up further in her bed, struggling to arrange the pillows behind her without falling over and giving him another reason to laugh. Scott helped, but Sara wished he hadn't - because he lost his smile as she wriggled into place. He was worried.

She wished everyone would stop looking at her like she'd broken something internal. Technically, Sara supposed she had - but the medi-gel would help with the scar. It wasn't something _integral_. It was nothing that wouldn't heal.

"How you feeling, sis?"

"Fine," Sara lied. "Ready to get out of the med-bay, for sure."

"I'm under orders from Lexi to put the Tempest on emergency alert if you try to leave that bed, by the way."

Sara made a face at him. "What are you doing here, anyway? I thought Meridian had you all booked up."

Scott shrugged. "Well, the Tempest was down one Ryder. Exceptions were made."

"Right."

The conversation stilled. Sara adjusted her pillows again, wishing Lexi hadn't lowered her painkiller dosage again. The pain in her abdomen was fading quickly - Lexi and medi-gel were _both_ miracle workers - but she was plagued by dozens of smaller aches and pains. Headaches had become commonplace, and muscle pains even more so. Sara hoped she'd be better off once she was allowed out of bed.

"Just say it, Scott."

"Say what?"

"You were _worried_ about me."

He chuckled. "Okay, yes. I was. I _am_. So how are you really feeling?"

Sara grimaced. "Sore. Tired."

"Have you had a chance to talk to any of the crew yet?"

"Just Lexi. Cora came by this morning, but I pretended to be asleep."

Scott scoffed. "Seriously? Why?"

"She…" Sara trailed off. She regretted confessing to that, now. "She's going to ask me about Reyes - or she's going to apologize for letting me go off alone, or something. I don't want to deal with that right now."

"You don't know that," Scott said easily. "Maybe she wanted to bring you flowers."

Sara started to laugh - and quickly stopped. Laughing still hurt.

"So…" Scott continued, looking at her curiously. He was making his almost-but-not-quite-smirking face, which Sara knew from experience meant he was about to embarrass her. "Reyes." He pronounced the name with an unnecessarily indulgent drawl, like he was testing out the way it sounded. "Rey-yes. I hadn't heard about him, you know."

Sara fought the impulse to look at her hands - and failed. "I don't know what you're talking about. I've definitely mentioned him."

"Uh huh. I don't remember you saying _anything_ about a relationship with -"

"Okay!" Sara hissed. Her face felt hot. Maybe if she pretended to pass out, Scott would forget about this conversation. "You caught me. I didn't tell you about a man I met on Kadara. So sorry. Let's move on."

"Hmm." Scott's face had turned serious - which was not a good sign.

"Uhh…how much did the crew tell you?"

"A few things."

Sara wasn't taking any bullshit, today. "SAM -" Scott waved his hands in her face like he was trying to cover her mouth - "How much did the crew tell my brother about Reyes?"

Scott swore under his breath as SAM's blue-light projection appeared on the med-bay console.

"Scott has been provided the same information that the rest of the crew is privy to, Pathfinder. Lieutenant Harper believed it would increase the likelihood of locating you."

Sara sighed. She let her head fall backwards and pushed as far down into the pillows as she could. "All right, Scott. Let's just get it over with. Ask away."

"Okay then." Scott tilted his head to look at her from another angle, like he was examining an elcor painting. "Just one question. Are you serious about him?"

"Jeez. You only play hardball now, huh?"

He frowned at her. "Look at this from my perspective, Sara. You got _kidnapped_ so that some pirates could get to this guy, but Vetra tells me you haven't even spoken to him since before Meridian. And then he flies in to rescue you _anyway_ , like he's Blasto without the tentacles." Scott leaned forward, resting his forearms on Sara's knees. "And then there's the fact that he's some sort of shady pirate lord. Needless to say, I'm a little confused."

"That's fair," Sara mumbled.

"Can you catch me up?"

"Not really. I'm confused, too."

Scott sighed. Suddenly, the brotherly-bravado was gone. The good-humoured interest turned to quiet concern. He pulled Sara into a hug. She wriggled irritably, because that's what you _do_ when your brother hugs you.

But she was grateful for it.

"Full disclosure," Scott mumbled. "I'm not thrilled by what I've heard. But I've got your back." He paused. "That battlefield surgery _was_ pretty impressive, though."

"Does having my back include helping me sneak over to the galley?"

"Nope." And with that, Scott released her. "Can I tell the others it's safe to visit?"

Sara shrugged.

"And you promise not to pretend to be sleeping?"

" _Fine_."

 

* * *

 

 

Sara was out of bed.

The sudden freedom was intoxicating. Sara struggled to describe it, even within the safety of her own head. It was excitement, like when she'd first laid eyes on the Tempest, mixed with the same head-over-heels vulnerability she'd felt when she fell out of the sky on Habitat 7. It was like landing on a new world; discovering a horizon both familiar and alien.

But that all ended when she took her first step.

"Mother _fucker_ ," she hissed, clinging to Scott's shoulder. "Why is this so hard?"

"Yep," Scott muttered, tightening his grip around her waist. He hoisted her upwards much more easily than he should have been able to. "Bed rest will do that to you."

"That's what zero-g will do to you," Lexi corrected. "How do you feel, Sara? Weak as a kitten, I suspect."

"A very strong kitten," Sara grunted. "With sharp teeth and - and all that." She took another faltering step. That one was better, but that could have been because Scott was ready for it.

Drack rumbled with laughter from his spot in the crew quarters doorway. Sara wished she'd been more discreet about her plans to walk around today. "Know what happens to a krogan in zero-g, kid?"

"Nothing?"

"Damn right."

Liam was standing at the end of the hall, muttering something to Jaal. When he caught her looking, he flashed his brightest smile and gave her two thumbs up. Jaal, looking a little confused, did the same.

Sara took another step. And another. "You know," she panted as she hobbled along, "I think this is getting easier."

She wanted to take it all back by the time she had completed her planned circuit of the ship. Lexi had ruled all ladders off-limits, and anything with a steeper incline than ten degrees was to be taken very seriously. Sara had thought it coddling, given that she had SAM to assist her - but she had definitely made a mistake.

The crew were all encouraging, except perhaps for Peebee, who couldn't disguise her disappointment when Gil called out 'you owe me twenty credits!' Whenever Sara wobbled too violently, Scott did his best to steady her. Vetra took over when Scott's arms got tired, though not without rolling her eyes at his whining. A few steps from the door to the Pathfinder's cabin, Sara's legs gave out completely - but the turian caught her. When Vetra half-dragged, half-carried her over to her bed, Sara could have cried with gratitude.

"You are a god among turians, Vetra." Sara collapsed onto the bed and stretched her arms out as far as they would reach. Those med-bay beds were so _small_. It felt good to look up at the familiar hanging lights; to escape the smell of medi-gel and antibacterial soap.

"Don't mention it, Ryder." Vetra shook her head. "I figure I owe you one, anyway."

Sara grimaced. "I'm afraid to ask why."

Vetra's mandibles quivered. "Yeah. Maybe it's better if you don't."

Sara knew she should probably argue. No one could have known what would happen outside Tartarus all those weeks ago, and Sara would probably have been upset if her friend had insisted on accompanying her. But Sara was so _tired_. That circuit of the ship felt like a circuit of the cluster, and Sara just didn't have it in her to dispel any misplaced guilt.

"Can you do me one more favour?"

"Sure. What?"

"Tell the others to leave me alone for a bit? I'm going to pass out as soon as you're gone, and I'd rather they not know about that."

Vetra chuckled. "No problem, boss. Sleep well."

Sara eyes drifted shut as soon as Vetra left. She'd only made it halfway onto the bed; her legs were hanging off the end. She didn't have the energy to move.

But sleep was a strangely long time coming. Her thoughts turned circles around themselves, unravelling before they had a chance to fully form. She could feel her heartbeat like a bassline shaking her skeleton, and her dangling ankles felt like lumps of lead. She wished she could still say that everything hurt, but it…didn't. She felt drained, weepy, and somehow deprived; like she was lacking something she couldn't define.

"SAM?"

"Yes, Pathfinder?"

"Why do I feel like this?" The words stuck in her throat like tar; like she couldn't breathe until they were gone.

"Dr. T'Perro forwarded her full report to your omni-tool, Pathfinder. I can search for information on a specific symptom, however I believe most of your ailments can be explained quite easily."

"Earth to Sara, you got shot?"

"Yes."

"I feel like… I don't know, SAM. I feel like I'm missing something. Do you think this is withdrawal?"

"It is possible, Pathfinder. The effects of Oblivion withdrawal are largely undocumented. May I suggest an alternative explanation?"

"Go ahead."

"Alec suffered similar feelings of deficiency following the loss of your mother. To put it another way, he missed her."

"Not everything is about Reyes, SAM." Sara sighed. "This isn't the same."

"Perhaps you are right. The events of the past five weeks have given me a large amount of new information to process. If you do not intend to sleep, may I ask you some questions?"

"What about?"

"About Mr. Vidal."

Sara threw a forearm across her eyes. "You're more hung up on him than Scott is."

"I do not believe that to be a flaw, Pathfinder. There is a great deal that I, and others, wish to understand."

"Fine. Ask away."

"I am experiencing continuing confusion. My only previous experience of love was through the eyes of Alec Ryder. Alec often placed his love for Ellen above other concerns - for instance, his responsibilities to the Initiative. And to his children."

"Wow, SAM. Don't pull any punches."

"I am attempting to rationalize your relationship with Mr. Vidal alongside my existing understanding."

"Can you do that without making me feel like there's something... wrong with me?"

SAM paused. "I require more information, Pathfinder. I do not understand your question."

"Nevermind, then."

"I am not certain whether you recall your exchange with Mr. Vidal in the Remav system. In case you require reminding, you told him that you loved him."

Something behind Sara's sternum twisted. "Yes. I remember that."

"You also told him that your responsibilities make the two of you incompatible. Do you believe your affection for Mr. Vidal to be at odds with your mission as Pathfinder?"

"Not exactly," Sara muttered. "He's an ally of the Initiative."

"It would be helpful if you attempted to articulate your reasoning more fully."

Sara sighed irritably. "Okay, then. _No._ I don't believe that."

"Do you believe it conflicts with the ethical responsibilities of your position?"

"That's…closer to the mark. Sorry, SAM. This must be frustrating for you."

"The Initiative charter does not detail any rules, regulations or guidelines related to a Pathfinder's personal relationships."

"The rules don't have to be written _down_ , SAM."

"I have records of civilizations that keep oral histories and traditions, but neither my databanks nor your father's memories include any hint of such practices within the Initiative."

"You're being deliberately obtuse, aren't you?"

"In this case, I am entirely innocent."

Sara rolled over onto her side - and regretted it immediately. It made her head swim. "It's not some Initiative code of conduct, SAM. It's _my_ code. I can't be a Pathfinder by day and a crime lord's lover by night."

"Why not?"

"Fucking hell." Sara buried her face in the blanket. "Because…I don't know." SAM didn't say anything, which had to mean he didn't understand.

Big surprise.

"Because I'm not just an explorer anymore. People look up to us, and we have to live up to that."

"Pathfinder, am I correct to assume that when you say 'we' you are in fact referring to yourself?"

Sara groaned. "Yes. That's what I mean."

"If you would not mind, I would like to summarize my current understanding of your attitude in comparison to your father's philosophy. May I proceed?"

Was there even any point in saying no? "Go ahead."

"Alec Ryder, to borrow a phrase from the Nexus' music archives, believed that love would conquer all. Perhaps conversely, you believe that love must not prevent you from meeting others' expectations of your behaviour."

"I…guess. You make it sound so clinical. It's not about 'meeting expectations' - it's about not letting people down."

"Does that belief extend to other areas? Do you believe that your fulfilment should not interfere with those expectations, either?"

"No!"

"Is this what Mr. Vidal meant when he asked if you were happy?"

Sara turned her head just far enough to glower at SAM's projection on her desk. "Hold on just one second, smart guy. You're meant to be _my_ AI partner, not Reyes Vidal's. You _like_ him, don't you?"

"I do not form personal opinions of the people I observe, Pathfinder. I do not 'like' anyone."

"Liar."

"However, I must point out that Mr. Vidal did save your life. He took what a reasonable observer would consider extreme measures in order to do so, and he risked the exposure of his identity. Even I must find it admirable that he did not even ask for your thanks."

SAM had her there.

"Pathfinder, I would appreciate an answer to my earlier question. Is this what Mr. Vidal meant?"

"I don't want to talk anymore, SAM."


	8. With Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning guys - this one's NSFW (but not enough for me to change the rating, I think). Proceed with caution.

Sara soon learned that rebuilding muscle took time - a _lot_ of time. It was slow going, too. As far as Sara was concerned, slow progress was almost worse than standing still. It made her wonder what she was doing wrong; what supplements Lexi wasn't giving her, or what stretches she wasn't doing right. She even tried the yoga the doctor had suggested, but promptly decided it wasn't for her.

Her body was busy, but her mind wasn't. It was a terrible combination. She trawled the Nexus' film archives for moving pictures to distract her, but she found her thoughts wandering anyway. The crew were teasing, supportive and mollifying by turns - but Sara caught the looks that they thought she couldn't see. They walked on eggshells that hadn't been there before.

They were _imagined_ eggshells, as far as Sara was concerned. Couldn't they see that she was healing? Couldn't they see that she was fine?

Or maybe she wasn't. Maybe the progress _was_ too slow. Maybe she was doing something wrong.

Scott insisted on hanging around aboard the Tempest. Sara had flatly told him it was a waste of his time, but he'd brushed her off; winked, and said something about getting to know the crew. SAM, much to Sara's relief, had ceased his interrogations about love and happiness - and all the other emotions a machine had no right to be so curious about.

But she was having trouble sleeping. Maybe she'd simply used up all the sleep one woman was meant to have. She didn't dream anymore; never slept real, restful sleep. She dozed fitfully, migrating between her bed and the couch. She spent those hours glued to a datapad, desperately seeking ways to keep her meandering mind occupied.

Maybe SAM had gotten to her. Maybe that persistent sense of _lacking_ just wouldn't go away without distraction. Maybe there was just no sense trying to fight gravity.

 

_To: Reyes Vidal_

_From: Sara Ryder_

_I'm lying on my couch, thinking about what you said to me last time I saw you. FYI, I'm bored out of my brain right now. I guess that's what it takes to make me introspective._

_It also occurs to me that I never thanked you for saving my life. So thanks for that. SAM says thanks too, because without you he'd probably be in Cora's head right now. And let's face it - Cora's head is probably a lot less exciting than mine. Usually, anyway. Also, you'll be pleased to hear that SAM's a big fan. Be warned: he might ask you to sign something next time we're in the neighbourhood._

_I don't know why I'm writing this, except that I miss you._

_Please reply this time._

_Sara_

 --

She almost didn't send it. Her finger lingered over the delete command, her splintered thoughts racing. What if she'd waited too long? What if her bullet-scattered rambling had somehow gotten through to him? What if he'd decided she was right; that distance was the best thing for both of them?

What if he hadn't?

 

_To: Sara Ryder_

_From: Reyes Vidal_

_My mother always told me to stay away from women who only email at 4 AM. Luckily for you, I never listen to good advice. Just for the record, SAM did already thank me. That AI of yours is very polite._

_I'm told that you are finally up and about, but I'd rather hear it from you. How are you, Sara?_

_With love,_

_Reyes_

 --

Sara felt a rush of…something. Relief? Longing? Delight? Whatever it was, it made her chest ache like it was full to overflowing; made her throat close over and her eyes prick with tears.

_To: Reyes Vidal_

_From: Sara Ryder_

_Sorry. I didn't check what time it was in Kadara Port. Why are you awake?_

_\--_

_To: Sara Ryder_

_From: Reyes Vidal_

_You think anyone can sleep in Tartarus?_

_\--_

_To: Reyes Vidal_

_From: Sara Ryder_

_I never thought about that. How are you still alive?_

_\--_

_To: Sara Ryder_

_From: Reyes Vidal_

_I need to maintain some sense of mystery, Sara. Now, tell me. Have your crew been spoiling you as they should? And more importantly, did you save any of the whiskey for me?_

_\--_

_To: Reyes Vidal_

_From: Sara Ryder_

_Whiskey is definitely not on Lexi's list of approved beverages._

_\--_

_To: Sara Ryder_

_From: Reyes Vidal_

_There's a list?_

_\--_

_To: Reyes Vidal_

_From: Sara Ryder_

_It's a very short list. The only thing on there is water._

_I've been wanting to ask you something. Everything that happened when you came to find me in Kaetus' little hide-away is a little bit blurry, but it must have been pretty terrible._

_Are you okay?_

_\--_

_To: Sara Ryder_

_From: Reyes Vidal_

_Look at you, worrying about the man that doesn't have a bullet wound. I'm fine, Sara. I don't remember much of it, either._

_Perhaps we should take this to a vid-call._

_\--_

_To: Reyes Vidal_

_From: Sara Ryder_

_Not sure I have the energy to walk up to the conference room. Plus, we still don't have a private channel._

_\--_

_To: Sara Ryder_

_From: Reyes Vidal_

_Private channel? Is this a booty call, Ryder?_

 --

"Are you feeling all right, Pathfinder? Dr. T'Perro asked to be alerted to any signs of cardiovascular distress."

"For the love of god, SAM - _do not mention this to Lexi._ I'm fine."

_To: Reyes Vidal_

_From: Sara Ryder_

_Depends. Do you want it to be?_

_\--_

The blood rushed to her face immediately, but Sara hit send anyway. "What's wrong with me?"

"Is that a rhetorical question, Pathfinder?"

"Yes, SAM. It definitely is."

Truth was, there were a _lot_ of things that were wrong with her. Her injuries, for one. Her bruised pride, for another. But there was that quiet, aching hurt, too, that lurked somewhere behind her barriers and below her conscious thoughts; that never went away, no matter how far she pushed her tired muscles or how desperately she searched the film archives.

But lying here, exchanging flirty messages with Reyes, some of that ache seemed to fade. Her heart was beating faster. Dully, she realized she was drawing tiny circles on her stomach, right over her new starburst scar.

 

_To: Sara Ryder_

_From: Reyes Vidal_

_Yes._

_\--_

Oh god.

 

_To: Reyes Vidal_

_From: Sara Ryder_

_I can't come to Kadara. The doctor will hit the roof._

_\--_

_To: Sara Ryder_

_From: Reyes Vidal_

_Then we'll have to get creative._

 --

"SAM?" Sara's voice sounded awfully strained.

"Yes, Pathfinder? Have you changed your mind about alerting Dr. T'Perro?"

"No. _Definitely_ not. But can you lock the door for me?"

"Of course."

"And just in case you weren't sure, this is one of those times I don't want you to tell _anyone_ about."

"Even Mr. Vidal?"

"Are you actually  _teasing_ me right now?"

Sara was glad she didn't have any mirrors close at hand. Her face felt hotter than a drive core. She scampered over to her bed, clambering under the covers with shaky limbs. She shivered as she pulled her shirt over her head - then paused, briefly wondering if she'd misunderstood.

 

_To: Reyes Vidal_

_From: Sara Ryder_

_Just fyi, I'm taking my clothes off. That's what we're doing, right?_

_\--_

_To: Sara Ryder_

_From: Reyes Vidal_

_I certainly hope so.  
_

_\--_

Sara took a deep breath - then let it out again as slowly as she could. She closed her eyes, trying to remember what it felt like to run her hands across his chest. All she recalled was how dizzying it had been to sit beside him on that rooftop; how soft his lips were, and how good it felt when he'd slipped his tongue inside her mouth. He'd tasted like six hundred year-old whiskey. He'd smelled like _man_.

 

_To: Sara Ryder_

_From: Reyes Vidal_

_You're thinking about me, aren't you?_

_\--_

Sara smiled to herself, sliding one hand down over her belly. She was jittery as hell. Thank god for autocorrect.

 

_To: Reyes Vidal_

_From: Sara Ryder_

_I'm thinking about what it felt like to kiss you. Wondering what it feels like to do more than that._

 --

She ran her hands over her hips as she waited for a response. She was shivering all over, but she was burning up. " _Not_ a fever," she said before SAM could ask. Fuck, was she really doing this?

 

_To: Sara Ryder_

_From: Reyes Vidal_

_I'm a man of many talents, Sara. Should I describe it for you?_

_\--_

_To: Reyes Vidal_

_From: Sara Ryder_

_I'm on board with that._

_\--_

_To: Sara Ryder_

_From: Reyes Vidal_

_I'll start with more kissing, because I know you'll enjoy that. Don't worry - I'll be gentle. But not too gentle._

_\--_

Shit. Sara had no doubt he'd done this before, but the thought didn't make her jealous. It made her excited. She didn't miss his choice of tense, either. It wasn't what he would have done. It was what he intended to do.

 

_To: Sara Ryder_

_From: Reyes Vidal_

_I'll put a hand behind your head while I kiss you, and the other on your neck. I'll keep at it until you go crazy, Sara. Until you're begging for me to touch you._

\--

"Fuck _me_ ," Sara whispered.

"I believe that is what -"

"Shut _up_ , SAM!"

 

_To: Reyes Vidal_

_From: Sara Ryder_

_You're good with words, Reyes._

_\--_

_To: Sara Ryder_

_From: Reyes Vidal_

_Let's talk about what else I can do with my tongue._


	9. A Reason To Keep Going

Either Reyes had forgotten just how bad Kadara could smell, or weeks of space travel had robbed him of his tolerance for hydrogen sulfide. It was almost bearable atop the mountain, but it wafted up through the grates like it was following him around. It clung to his clothes like some sort of disgusting cologne. He'd been back on his homeworld for more than two weeks, but his stubborn nose continued to protest it.

And that's what Kadara was, really, in this short-lived second life of his. Home. It was good to be back, even if the sulfides turned his stomach.

He did his best to pretend not to notice the smell, but Keema still picked up on it. It wasn't his first discussion with her since returning to Kadara, but it was their first meeting in person. She greeted him with a regal smile and a regal nod when he entered her stolen throne room.

"Reyes Vidal. You're a sight for sore eyes."

"So are you." Reyes strolled up to her like he hadn't a care in the galaxy, but the angara's smile turned wry.

"You wear the look of an offworlder today," Keema said. Although her tone was warm, Reyes detected a hint of derision. "You've been away too long, my friend."

"Maybe you're right, Keema." Reyes never liked to stand directly in front of the throne. He made a point of leaning slightly to the side, instead. It was mostly to avoid having to squint into the sun - but it was also to remind Keema that he wasn't one of her vassals. "But I am a man who keeps his promises."

"So I see." Keema gestured to her guards, who promptly left the room. She had assured Reyes in the past that she routinely sent them away, so as not to accidentally reveal the significance of Reyes' visits. When they had gone, she fixed him with something that looked an awful lot like a glare. "It's about time."

Reyes grinned disarmingly. "Keema, were you _worried_ about me?"

"Hmm. You could say that." The angara leaned back in her chair - almost like a sullen teenager.

"I kept in touch."

"Not often enough."

Reyes raised an eyebrow. "What's the problem, Keema? I expected a much warmer welcome than this."

"Don't misunderstand me, Reyes. I am very glad to see you." Maybe Reyes was going to need a refresher course on angaran expressions - because she definitely didn't _look_ happy. "But we need to talk."

"More ominous words have never been spoken. Cut to the chase, then."

Keema sat up again, bracing her hands on her knees. Reyes could forgive her for lacking the anxiety appropriate for someone preparing to scold the Charlatan; Keema was one of his oldest contacts on Kadara, and closer to a friend than a colleague - but he still felt a flash of irritation. She sat that throne because of _him_ , and now she intended to tell him his business.

"I have been dealing with a lot of questions since you left. I suspect you know what the most frequently asked question was. 'Why do _we_ have to look for the Pathfinder?'"

So that was how it was going to be. "I'm surprised at you, Keema. Surely you're not asking me to _explain_  myself."

Keema's expression lost some of its fierceness. Perhaps she heard the warning in his tone; the underlying current of anger that turned his consonants sharp and his timbre stony. "I am _concerned_ , Reyes. Do you know how much smoothing-over had to be done? How many runners pulled extra shifts? How many ships ran afoul of the Scourge while they searched for Kaetus' base?"

"That sounds like something that should go in a report." Reyes stepped closer, lifting one foot to rest on the arm of her throne. He leaned forward, bracing himself on his raised knee. It was a casual stance - and another implied warning. "One that I can read later."

Keema knew it. Perhaps unconsciously, she leaned backward. "I am not criticizing," she said quietly. "I am advising. I understand why you did it, Reyes. I understand that abandoning her was unthinkable. But I would be neglecting you if I didn't point out this out. By saving her, you sent a message to the entire cluster: if you want something from the Charlatan, threaten Sara Ryder."

"Hmm." She wasn't wrong. Steely anger settled in Reyes' chest, its splintered edges cold and sharp as bullet fragments.

But none of this was _Keema's_ fault. Reyes should remember that.

"We need to address it somehow," Keema continued. "The last thing we want is a repeat event."

"You're right," Reyes said quietly. He leaned back, rolling his shoulders in a futile effort to loosen them. It jostled those ice crystals in his chest; gave him just enough room to breathe around them. "I'll take your advice, my friend. You can rest easy."

"Good." Keema smiled hesitantly, some of the tension leaving her bearing. "I have one…other suggestion. But it involves a personal question."

Reyes removed his foot from her armrest, returning some of her space. "Keema Dohrgun, asking permission before prying? Now I've seen everything."

"I know things between you and Ryder were…difficult, after Sloane's demise." She spoke very quietly. "Do you expect her to visit you on Kadara in future?"

"It's… a continuing discussion." Reyes tried not to think about their recent email exchange. It made him feel as giddy and needy as a lovestruck teenager - but it made him feel the lack of her, too.

"If so," Keema said carefully, "you will need to be more discreet than you were in the past. She is already associated with the Charlatan. If that turns into an association with Reyes Vidal… we'll have a problem."

The rest of the meeting passed more easily. Keema updated him on the status of the port; economically, politically and socially. The Collective's efforts to find the Pathfinder had not precisely been common knowledge, but Reyes' organization had grown far-reaching. Even if word didn't spread, the nature of such things meant that whispers did. While the atmosphere in the port was one of mild confusion, there was satisfaction there too.

The Pathfinder wasn't a Kadaran - and she never would be, even if she gave up exploring and lived out her days on the mountain - but she owed the exiles a favour now. They'd earned a little piece of the Pathfinder.

That would be enough to make anyone happy.

He left Keema's throne room after a little more than an hour, stopping near Kralla's Song on his way back to Tartarus. Sunrise had passed hours ago, but the streets were still almost empty. Kadara Port had never embraced the concept of business hours. Mortan was waiting for him around the corner from the bar, grinning widely. Reyes kept the meeting short; a few words of gratitude, more words of praise, and a few thousand credits sent to Mortan's omni-tool. The salarian left with a grin wider than the one he'd been wearing when he arrived.

Tartarus was fairly quiet at this time of morning. Reyes gave the new security cameras a grin and a mock salute as he passed - but the smile quickly faded. The cameras would make the area around Tartarus a little safer, but Keema was right. Saving Sara had put her in even more danger than she was in before. Rallying the entire Collective had been a mistake - an understandable one, maybe, but still a mistake. He should have played it careful; a favour here, a twisted arm there, and maybe something sharper where necessary. He could have sent her location to the Tempest as soon as he had the information.

So why hadn't he? Fear, maybe - or a lack of faith in a crew without its leader. Pride? Perhaps. Or simply passion overriding sense; desperation winning out in the battle against discretion.

Reyes didn't know. He didn't _want_ to know. Thinking about it made him restless and irritable, like a man with too many worries and too little sleep.

And that, of course, was precisely what he was.

He threw himself down on his couch the moment he was back in his room, dragging a hand across his eyes. These ethereal hours of the mid-morning, when the club music was silent and the walls no longer shook, were the only time Reyes had a chance at meaningful sleep. He gave it a try - but, as always, his thoughts turned to Sara.

Reyes had never felt this kind of relief before. It had started the moment SAM told him she was going to be okay: a surging kind of anti-adrenaline that bloomed in his chest and crested over his shoulders. It eked its way down his limbs like warm honey from a glass, enriching and enervating all at the same time. It had barely left him since.

Maybe he was in shock. He gave it some thought as he fumbled for the whiskey bottle on the table. He'd heard Nakamoto talk about the symptoms. Low blood-pressure was apparently the big one, but Reyes thought he was safe there. Shallow breathing? Not a problem either. But his pulse _did_ feel weak whenever he thought about Sara struggling to walk.

He sipped the whiskey straight from the bottle, taking a moment to swirl it on his tongue before he swallowed. No. It wasn't shock. He was distracted and spacey and moon-eyed; as awe-struck and adoring as a man on his first offworld run. Maybe it was because Sara was beautiful, or maybe it was because she was strong - but Reyes had been with beautiful badasses before.

She made him feel _safe_. Reyes sighed, stretching his neck out over the back of the couch. Ironic, really, given everything that had happened. She made him feel safe, treasured, _understood_ \- even when she was listing the reasons they couldn't be together. It was probably stupid, and it was certainly bull-headed, but Reyes kept hoping she'd change her mind. She was emailing him again, wasn't she? She was emailing him a _lot._ Reyes couldn't go half an hour without checking for a new message - and he had the feeling Sara couldn't, either.

He didn't think he could go back to how it was before.

Happiness, after all, was a reason to keep going. And Reyes had a very good reason.

He was startled awake by his terminal beeping. His heart leapt - but it was only the new waitress, Vini.

Reyes cleared his throat. "Yes?"

"Uh, someone named Sara is here. She wants entrance to the side room."

For a moment, Reyes was sure he hadn't heard correctly. But only for a moment.

"Send her in, then."

He bolted back to the couch, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. Why hadn't she told him she was coming to Kadara? Amazing, really, that she'd been able to talk the doctor into it. Suddenly, he didn't feel tired at all. His heart pattered out an elated, nervous beat against his ribs. Anticipation stirred in his belly. He had a moment of indecision as he settled himself on the couch - it was stupid, but he wanted to look relaxed. Arm stretched out along the back? One foot on the table? Maybe a drink in his hand?

No - not enough time to pour another drink. Reyes decided sprawling sideways was the best option; one leg half spread on the couch, the other stretched out at an angle. Very… _dashing_. His gun was digging into his hip, though, so he went to move it -

And that was probably what saved him.

The door slid open and a woman entered - but she wasn't Sara. She barged in with her gun drawn, flanked by a turian and an asari. All three were outfitted in scarred combat armour, and their eyes all narrowed when they focused on Reyes.

"Reyes Vidal?"

"Who's asking?" Slowly, he wriggled his gun out of its holster. No sudden movements.

She advanced on him slowly. "Word is, you can point us to the Charlatan."

"Then I guess that the word is wrong," Reyes muttered.

Then he shot her.

Reyes was an excellent shot, but no one was _that_ good. The bullet took her in the leg instead of the chest, and she stumbled backwards with a cry of pain. She fired back on instinct, but Reyes was already moving. The woman's shot hit the couch instead. Her cohorts fired too - and one of their bullets caught Reyes in the arm.

Reyes swallowed a shout of pain as he hit the floor. He upended the coffee table and hunkered down behind it. There was blood - and pain - but not too much of it. The bullet had taken him in his right arm, but he could still move it, even if it burned like fire when he did. He swapped his gun to his left hand and fired blindly over the lip of the table, fumbling for the device he kept secured to the underside. He could hear people screaming outside - then a wet _thud_ and a closer shriek. It sounded like it came from the turian.

"Go to hell, Vidal!"

Finally, Reyes' fingers found the button. "See you there."

The explosives by the door detonated - and the world went almost silent.

Reyes didn't pause to check the damage; he sprinted for the exit, barrelling through the smoke like a disruptor torpedo. His ears were ringing and he was almost seeing double, but there was no time to pause and check on Vini - no time to even think, yet.

Someone had connected him to the Charlatan. It was only a connection, for now, and not identification. But that was dangerous enough. There was no telling precisely where the leak had sprung - not yet, at least. So he couldn't go to Keema. He couldn't go to Mortan.

He needed somewhere to hide.


	10. Reprisals

Sara was halfway through her third cup of coffee for the day when the galley doors slid open. Peebee waltzed in and made a beeline for the coffee machine.

"Ahh, Ryder. Why the long face?" Peebee cast a _look_ over her shoulder, a tiny smirk playing at the corners of her lips. "Got the blues, huh?"

Sara snorted. "Blues? Really?"

"Hey, don't blame me for that. Human sayings are weird."

"I'm good."

It wasn't entirely a lie. According to Lexi, Sara's recovery was proceeding quickly - even more quickly, apparently, than she could have hoped for. It was all thanks to SAM, of course, which Sara wasn't proud to admit. She was working hard, but she couldn't help feeling like she was letting someone down.

She couldn't say exactly _who_ she was letting down. Scott? Lexi? SAM? Herself? Maybe it didn't matter, because that hollow feeling in her chest wouldn't go away. She'd made Lexi assess her for withdrawal, along with every other conceivable condition Sara could convince SAM to tell her about, but the doctor assured her that she was fine. Fatigue, she claimed, was only to be expected. Lethargy, too, and perhaps psychological symptoms. Lexi had suggested they discuss her feelings about everything that had happened in the last two months - and that was where Sara always ended the discussion.

Sara's head was in better condition than the rest of her. Of _that_ , at least, she was definitely sure.

"Need a top up?" Peebee asked.

"Sure. Actually - better not."

"What cup are you on?"

"Three."

"Ahh. Message received." Peebee poured her own coffee and, rather than sitting in the chair beside Sara, perched herself on the edge of the galley table. "So, how's things?"

"Fine." Sara took another sip of coffee. She hated awkward silences, but she couldn't think of anything to say. "How are you?"

"Come on, Ryder." Peebee placed her coffee on the table. Sara could feel the _clunk_ reverberating through the metal. "Cut the crap, please. I'm going _insane_ with boredom here - which means you must be too! How long's it been since we found new Remtech? You can't tell me you're not ready to crawl out of your skin."

Sara snorted into her drink. "Almost sounds like you're hoping I'll lose my mind. With friends like these…"

"Yeah, yeah. Blah, blah, blah. I'm _bored_ , Ryder. You're bored too! But you can walk now, and I continue to excel in that particular field. Let's _do_ something!"

Sara sighed. Peebee wasn't wrong - in fact, she was definitely right. Sara was bored out of her brain. But…

"I don't know, Peebs…"

Peebee snapped her fingers. "Wait! I've got it."

"Got what?" Sara took another sip.

"Let's go to Kadara!"

Sara's stomach dropped. "Lexi will never agree to that."

"Hey, hey, hey - we don't have to say we're going for _you_. Let's say we're going for me! You know how Vetra and Drack are always making those mysterious pick-ups? I can do the same thing!"

"Hmm. And…what are we going to do once we're there?" Sara's cheeks were getting hot. She already knew the answer.

"Well, clearly, I am going to go to Kralla's. Maybe do some exploring, too. But you can do whatever you want!" Peebee raised an eyebrow and sent Sara a sly look across the bridge of her nose. "Or _whoever_ you want."

Well. That _did_ sound appealing. There were only so many times Sara could read over Reyes' emails. "Lexi will never -"

"Ugh, forget about Lexi! Who's the Pathfinder here, huh?"

"…Me."

"Exactly! This'll be good for you, I promise."

Surprisingly, Lexi barely made a fuss at all. She checked Sara's vitals, stuffed her pockets with medi-gel, and told her very firmly that she shouldn't overdo it. Sara was so excited that she didn't even recognize it as an innuendo; she was buzzing with nervous energy, and it carried her right up to the back of Kallo's chair without so much as a twinge in her overworked muscles. Kallo was surprised to see her, and even more surprised when she directed him to Kadara, but he didn't raise any protest either. Suvi murmured something to him as Sara left, barely managing to disguise a guilty giggle - but Sara didn't care.

She sent Reyes another email from her quarters as the Tempest approached Kadara.

_To: Reyes Vidal_

_From: Sara Ryder_

_Don't want to alarm you, but I'm about an hour out from Kadara. Free for a drink?_

_\--_

She bustled around her quarters for most of the hour, migrating between her wardrobe, couch and terminal. She was surprised Reyes hadn't gotten back to her yet; he usually replied very quickly. Maybe he was playing it cool. Very cool.

"Hey, SAM? Can I ask you a favour?"

"Certainly."

Sara cleared her throat awkwardly. "Well, I'm going to Kadara. And, uh, you remember that time that I was in here... and Reyes was emailing me…"

"I remember that evening quite clearly."

"Great." Sara's ears were burning. "Uh, here's the thing. You remember how you kept interrupting?"

"I apologize, Ryder. I did not anticipate that you would view it as an interruption."

"Right. Look, it's fine. Just… I don't want any commentary when I go to see Reyes. Do you understand?"

"Certainly, Pathfinder. May I ask a question now, instead?"

Sara shrugged. "Knock yourself out, buddy."

"Your current physiological state suggests that you intend to engage in intercourse with Mr. Vidal."

"Oh my god. SAM, you have a _fixation_."

"Does this mean that you have reconciled your feelings towards him?"

"Yes. I don't know. _Maybe._ " Sara sighed. "Can't you just let me have this?"

"I am not attempting to distress you, Pathfinder. I simply wish to understand."

"Great. We'll…talk about it later."

_Fuck_ \- why was she so nervous? It wasn't all SAM's fault, though he definitely hadn't helped. She was dancing around like eezo in an unstable drive core, her heartbeat fluttering like she was prepping for a jump from orbit.

Sara almost leapt out of her skin when Peebee barrelled through the door.

"We're almost there," Peebee crowed. She shimmied over to Sara's side and nudged her with her elbow. "Remember: play it cool. Can't have Cora or Vetra trying to be your nursemaid. Or _Liam_. Ugh."

"They're not stupid, Peebee. They're going to know what's going on."

"Not necessarily! You're _complicated_ , right?" Peebee pressed the back of her hand to her forehead, pretending to collapse into Sara's arms. Sara caught her - but not without grumbling. "Oh, _Reyes_ ," Peebee continued, and Sara was very tempted just to let her fall. "I _love_ you, Reyes! I love your lustrous black hair and your soulful amber eyes, but we can never be together! If only I wasn't so -"

Sara let her go, and Peebee landed on the couch with a shriek and a laugh. "What, too much?"

"You think?"

"You dropped me on purpose! That means you're getting stronger." Peebee sat up and straightened her jacket. "Look, my point is that if you act all _conflicted_ , who the hell is going to be able to tell the difference? Anyone gives you shit, you tell them that you're going down to talk damage control. It's none of their business anyway."

It was at that moment that they dropped out of FTL over Kadara. Peebee glanced at the looming planet, grinned, and leapt to her feet.

"Let's do this!"

Sara followed her up to the armory, trying not to let her nervousness show on her face. She made Peebee help her strap on all of her armour pieces. If anyone in the port pulled her up on it, they could go to hell. If Reyes had a few more bits and pieces to peel off her… well, that was okay.

Sure, Sara had never felt the need for armour in the port before. But she was _fine_. It wasn't paranoia, even if Peebee gave her a weird look. It was just caution. You learn from your mistakes, right?

The others were waiting around the boarding ramp. Some of them seemed pleased; Drack was clearly itching to do some real drinking, and Scott was almost rubbing his hands together with anticipation. He did give Sara a knowing look, though, so Sara nudged Peebee in his direction. Peebee, quickly catching on, sauntered over to the other Ryder.

"First time on Kadara?" she asked sweetly.

Sara made a beeline for the boarding ramp while her brother was distracted by Peebee's flirting. She tapped her foot impatiently while Kallo made the final descent, pretending to listen for turbulence. She didn't hear any, of course, because this was the Tempest - but she hoped it might ward people away.

No such luck. Cora came to stand beside her, her expression carefully neutral. Cora wasn't wearing any armour, and she gave Sara's articulated plating a long and thoughtful look.

"Going somewhere you might need backup, Ryder?"

Sara shook her head, gazing at her feet like she was checking her boots for dust. "Nope. Just figured the extra weight would be a good thing. You know - for muscle gain."

"Uh huh." Cora didn't push it, but Sara could still feel her watching. "I've got time for a workout, if you want. We can steal some of Liam's equipment while the others are gone - work up a real sweat."

"Nope, I'm good." Sara's voice sounded so squeaky it was almost painful. Why was she such a terrible liar? "Just going to…go for a walk."

"Mmhmm." When Sara looked up, Cora was smiling. "Look, Ryder, I get it. This is your thing to deal with, not ours. Just remember that we're here, okay?"

Sara chuckled nervously. "Thanks, Cora, but really -"

"But there are a few things you need to know before we land. You up for it?"

Sara nodded.

Cora squared her shoulders, like she was steeling herself for something unpleasant. "There have been…reprisals on Kadara."

Something cold settled in Sara's belly. "What do you mean _reprisals_?"

"Three thugs were thrown off the mountain last week. A krogan, a salarian and a human. Big deal, apparently. Known Collective execs gave the order."

Sara found it difficult to reply, because her throat had almost closed over. "Three of them, huh?"

A krogan to slug her in the jaw. A salarian to jam the needle in her neck. A human to carry her body to the rover.

"You're talking about the thugs that kidnapped me. They were still on Kadara?"

Cora nodded. "The human was. Word is the other two were brought in from Elaaden."

"Were they…  _alive_ when it happened?"

"Barely." Cora looked faintly ill - which was telling. Cora had a very strong stomach. "They'd been tortured, first. Someone cut their fingers off. Even the krogan's."

Now Sara felt sick, too. "Someone."

"Look," Cora said quietly. "I don't know for sure that Reyes gave the order. Could be this was an unrelated execution. Could be someone lower level made the call."

"Right."

"I just want to say that…whatever you decide to do, I'm behind you. And you should know that I'm not angry at him anymore."

"What?" Sara couldn't keep the shock out of her voice. "Really?"

"Well, before all this… it did look like he was using you. It doesn't look like that anymore." Cora scrubbed at the back of her neck. She was _embarrassed_. Sara didn't think she'd ever seen that before. "He really seems to care about you, Ryder. Deeply."

"And if he killed those people?"

"Well... I asked myself what the alternative was. We don't have the resources for real prisons. Neither does the Collective." Cora looked away. "I guess you to have to ask yourself what you would have done if you had the chance."

Cora moved away before Sara could say anything in reply. Sara was grateful - both for the words and for the quick exit. She wasn't sure what she could have said to sum up what she was feeling; how her heart trembled and her stomach churned.

Was he Reyes the man, or Reyes the Charlatan? The lover who kissed her whiskey-drunk lips like she was precious and tender and adored - or the crime boss who hurled three men off a mountain?

Sara didn't know how to feel. But she was still carrying that quiet ache around inside her.

She needed to get it out.


	11. Selling, Not Telling

Kadara Port seemed far too normal, given everything that had happened. Still, Sara found it comforting. The exiles still smelled like sweat and sulfur. The dock supervisor was still slimy, and the dull hum of distant drive cores was still omnipresent. It helped that the sky was clear today. She'd probably never enjoy rain on Kadara.

But something was off. The docks were more crowded than usual, and the clustered spacers seemed on edge. Sara would have liked to find out what was going on, but she was in a hurry. She didn't want to give any of the crew enough time to latch onto her.

Scott and Liam seemed to be heading for the market already, but Vetra was watching her with a calculating look in her eye. Fortunately, Peebee fell in step beside Sara and slipped an arm through hers.

"Kralla's," Peebee whispered. "We'll shake Vetra off - don't you worry."

Sara let herself be guided towards the bar. She hadn't expected an adrenal response, but the smell of sulfur had her heart rate up. The faint sounds of club music sent little shivers down her spine.

"Peebs?"

"Mmhmm?"

"Tell me to get over it, please."

"Huh?"

"Just do it."

Peebee shrugged as she dragged Sara through a gaggle of exiles. "Get the hell over it, Ryder. Whoa, what's going on here?"

There was a huge line outside Kralla's. It stretched around the corner and halfway down the street. An irritated krogan was standing guard beside the door, shoulder-checking anyone who tried to skip the line. Peebee and Sara came up short.

Peebee sighed explosively. "Figures. We _finally_ make it off the ship, and the bar is closed!?"

Sara shook her head. "It's not closed. I can hear the music."

An angara in front of them looked back over her shoulder. "It's not closed, my friends. It's full. Didn't you hear about Tartarus?"

Sara's heart rate ratcheted up another notch. "Hear what about Tartarus?"

"Stars, you don't know?" The angara turned around, clearly delighted by the chance to gossip. "Someone blew the place up yesterday! Kian had to close it. They've shut down the elevator to the slums until the investigation has been finished."

Sara was grateful for Peebee's grip on her arm, because her head was suddenly spinning. "Was anyone hurt?"

"No idea." The angara shrugged, like she didn't particularly care.

Peebee squeezed Sara's forearm. "Shit," she breathed.

Then SAM's voice was in Sara's ear. "Pathfinder, I suggest you speak to Keema Dohrgun. She may be able to provide more information."

"And access to the slums," Sara muttered.

The angara frowned curiously. "What?"

"Nothing," Sara snapped. "Thank you."

And she took off at a run.

"Hey!"

Sara could hear Peebee sprinting along behind her, boots clanging on the metal grates. Sara hadn't moved faster than a brisk walk since Reyes had ripped that bullet out of her, but she forgot all about recovery; forgot all about the twinge in her side and the ache in her wasted muscles. The guard at the entrance to the palace moved as if to stand in her way - but then appeared to recognize her. He opened the door for her, and Sara didn't slow at all. She skidded on the floor as she rounded the corner to Keema's throne room.

Kadara's puppet ruler glanced up from a datapad as Sara entered. Her normally serene expression was gone, replaced by tense concern.

"Pathfinder," she said as Sara approached. She put the datapad aside, clasping her hands in her lap instead. She looked Sara up and down, something approaching disapproval crossing her features. "Should you be up and about so soon?"

Sara was about to tell her to keep her concerns to herself - but she couldn't speak. She gasped for air, bracing herself on her knees as she struggled to catch her breath. Shit. She was barely half alive. Pounding footsteps heralded Peebee's arrival, and she put a hand on Sara's elbow. It was probably the only thing that brought her upright again.

Still breathing in heaving gulps, Sara gestured at Keema's guards. "Tell them…to go."

Keema sighed, but she obeyed. "You heard," she murmured once the guards had gone.

Sara nodded. "Is he…?"

Keema shook her head sharply, her frustration clearly apparent. "I would dearly love to know, Ryder. We didn't find his body, if that's what you're asking. But he hasn't reached out to me."

"Why not?"

"If I knew that, I would not be so concerned," Keema hissed.

Peebee made an anxious sound through her teeth. "Not normal, then?"

"No. _Not_ normal." Keema shifted on her throne, as if the trappings of power were suddenly a burden. "I take it he hasn't contacted you, either."

"No." Sara was shivering. She clasped her hands behind her back, desperate to hide their shaking. "I need to go down there. I need to find him."

Keema looked her up and down slowly, the scepticism plain on her face. "I _have_ checked that Reyes isn't hiding under his smouldering couch, you know. Still, you're welcome to look into it. I'll notify the guards. Are you sure you're up to it?"

Sara straightened - with an effort. "I'm fine."

Peebee asked a question that should have been obvious. "Does this mean that someone…you know. _Knows_?"

"Perhaps." Keema's voice was very quiet.

"Right." Peebee looked flustered, too. "So, assuming that Reyes is just out for a walk… what happens to the Collective while he's gone? I mean, if he's not talking to _you_ -"

Keema made a dismissive gesture. "The wheels will turn in his absence. I have my responsibilities, and his other lieutenants have theirs. If we handle this discreetly, most of the Collective need never know that he was gone at all." She paused. "But…"

"Spit it out," Peebee groaned.

"Pathfinder?"

"Yeah?" Sara had nearly caught her breath. She was barely listening to Keema anymore. She was already thinking about the elevator; the slums; the burned-out nightclub. What had happened? Shit, what if he -

"There can be no dramatics," Keema said firmly. She leaned forward in her chair, hands planted on the sides of her throne. "You must not draw attention to yourself. You can't afford to broadcast your interest in Reyes."

The condescension brought Sara back to herself. Her breathing finally slowed. "I've got this, Keema. I'll see you when I've found him."

It was all bluster, of course; one hundred percent pure, unadulterated bravado. Still, it helped keep the air coming into Sara's lungs as she and Peebee made their way to the elevator. Vetra waylaid them when they stopped to grab their weapons from the Tempest. Sara expected the turian to fuss and worry when Peebee told her what they intended to do, but Vetra didn't voice any protest. Instead, her expression turned earnest, and she looked at Sara with determination in her eyes.

"We'll find him, Ryder."

The elevator ride was tense. The mechanism always clanked alarmingly on a descent, but today it seemed somehow louder; like someone had forgotten its maintenance in light of the chaos below. Hell, maybe that was exactly what had happened. Sara focused on her breathing as the volcanic rock swallowed them, trying not to let her imagination run away with her.

She definitely wasn't having flashbacks. The tightness in her chest was fear for _Reyes_ , not for her. The Charlatan had thrown Sara's kidnappers off the mountain, and Sara had nothing to fear from them.

The smell of smoke reached them even before the smell of the slums. It made Sara's breath catch in her throat, but she forced down her rising terror. The elevator screeched as it finally came to a stop, and Vetra stayed close as Sara opened the cage and took off across the cave floor.

The angara outside Kralla's had made it sound like Tartarus was a smoking ruin, but the damage wasn't even visible from a distance. The surrounding slums seemed entirely unaffected by the explosion, except for the extra tension on the faces of the locals. They skulked in the shadows like vultures circling a corpse, hollow-eyed and haggard. They gave Tartarus, and the investigators around it, a very wide berth. One of the angaran investigators moved to intercept Sara as she approached.

"No access," he rumbled. "You'll need to head back up the elevator."

"I'm the Pathfinder," Sara said loudly. Maybe she was a little _too_ loud, but Sara didn't care. "Keema said you'd let me in."

The angara's stance abruptly changed. "Sorry. We've been fending off scavengers all day." He stepped back, gesturing for Sara to proceed.

"What's the damage?" Vetra asked as they entered the lower level.

The investigator waved them inside, returning to his position outside the door. "See for yourself."

Sara had never seen Tartarus empty, nor without its glaring lights. The smell of smoke was stronger here, and the stairs were coated with a thick layer of dust. The silence was like a lead weight on her shoulders. Kian was sprawled on the floor, back pressed up against the bar, clutching the neck of a liquor bottle with trembling fingers. He glanced up when Sara entered, but his eyes didn't entirely focus.

"Pathfinder, huh? Thought you were dead."

"I thought _you_ were dead, Kian." Sara leaned against the bar, taking a moment to catch her breath. "Doesn't look too bad down here."

Kian grunted and dragged a hand across his eyes. "Yeah, I s'pose it's not the end of the world. Be up and running again before you know it - soon as these angara let me open the doors. I'm bleeding money here, friend."

"Uh huh." Sara wasn't listening anymore. She gestured at the stairs. "Safe to go up?"

"Far as I know."

Sara stayed ready with the jump-jet trigger anyway, because the stairs rocked slightly while she climbed. She stumbled about halfway up, and it was at that moment that Sara realized she hadn't climbed stairs since before her injury. Vetra steadied her with talons on the small of her back.

"You good, Ryder?"

"Yeah."

Then she crested the top of the stairs, and she was definitely no longer good.

The area outside Reyes' room had been devastated. The sliding door seemed to have been melted shut, then forced open. The metal was fused to the floor on both sides, but someone had physically forced the left half off its runner. There was carbon scoring on the walls; the floor; the ceiling - and there was a bloodstain on the wall at the top of the stairs, burned black by some sort of explosive.

When Sara readied her scanner, the beam was unsteady. "SAM?"

"The blood on the wall is badly degraded, Pathfinder. However, it does appear to belong to a human female."

Sara breathed a quiet sigh of relief, then tried to maintain the momentum. She moved forward carefully, sweeping the scanner ahead of her as she went. "Talk to me, buddy."

"The structural damage appears to have been caused by a short-radius explosive ordinance. Based on the residue, it was most likely a thermite-based incendiary."

"Looks like it was detonated near the door," Vetra muttered. "What's that say to you, Ryder?"

"Someone came in and…what? Dropped their grenade instead of throwing it?"

"Perhaps," SAM chimed in. "However, that scenario is unlikely."

"Whatever," Peebee said. She planted a palm against Sara's shoulder and gently propelled her through the door. "Hang on - more blood on the wall here, Ryder." She grabbed Sara's wrist and pointed the scanner at it.

"This blood sample belonged to a turian," SAM noted.

The scoring from the explosive was even worse in Reyes' room. The table had been upended, and it was peppered with bullet holes. The far wall and the couch were in the same shape, and -

Sara tore free of Peebee's grip. There was a bloodstain on the back of the couch. "SAM…"

"I do not have a record of Mr. Vidal's genome for comparison. However, that sample did come from a human male."

"Okay." Sara was having difficulty breathing. She spun slowly on the spot, sweeping the scanner around the entire room. "Hit me with it, SAM. What's your analysis?"

"Keema Dohrgun has forwarded security footage from outside Tartarus to your omni-tool, Pathfinder."

"Wait. They have security cameras out there?"

"It appears they were installed following your abduction. The cameras recently recorded a turian male, an asari and a human female entering the bar together. They were armed, and the explosion occurred shortly thereafter. The ensuing chaos prevents me from identifying individuals that were part of the mass exodus from the building, but it is possible that Mr. Vidal was among those who escaped."

"That's encouraging," Vetra muttered. She was peering at the stain on the couch. "And I see what you mean. Doesn't look big enough to have been fatal, Ryder."

"Yes," SAM agreed. "Additionally, the damage to the overturned table indicates that someone took cover behind it. If we assume that someone attacked Mr. Vidal, it is likely that his assailants were firing from the doorway. Perhaps Mr. Vidal found time to fight back."

"Hence the rest of the blood," Peebee finished. She stepped over the table, peering at the floor intently. Her eyes widened. "Hey! Ryder! There's some sort of switch or something under the table."

Sara hurried over to take a look. "A button? Do you think this is a detonator?"

"The switch does appear to be capable of wireless connection," SAM advised. "However, whatever device it was once paired with is now inactive. You may be correct, Pathfinder. If so, it would appear that Mr. Vidal detonated the explosive device himself."

The coiled knot of tension in Sara's chest slipped - but only slightly. "So it was a diversion. He escaped."

"I believe so, Pathfinder. However, I cannot explain why Mr. Vidal has not made contact with Ms. Dohrgun."

"Or me," Sara muttered.

She glanced around one last time. There wasn't much else to see. The remains of a shattered whiskey bottle were strewn on the floor beside the table. Turning her back on the destruction, she made her way to the upper floor exit, sweeping her scanner in front her in a wide arc.

"Anything worth noting, SAM?"

"No, Pathfinder."

Keeping pace behind her, Vetra hummed thoughtfully. "So. He escaped, then. But where did he go?"

"Not to Keema," Peebee commented. "Think he went into the badlands?"

"He'd have to be mad," Vetra said. "Why run for the wilderness when you've got a city full of allies to protect you?"

Sara shrugged. "Well, maybe -"

"Hey," Peebee cut in. "You think this counts as broadcasting our interest?"

"What?"

"Well, you know. Her highness angara up there told us to be discreet, right? I'm pretty sure half the slums saw us come in here."

Peebee had a point. Sara couldn't afford to be seen asking questions about Reyes Vidal. The fact that he'd been attacked at all suggested his identity might be compromised. Sara sighed. Her legs were almost shaking with fatigue. Her feet were aching, and her arms felt weak and reedy. She leaned against the wall, then slowly slid down onto her ass, letting her head fall back with a _thunk_.

"What do you suggest?"

"You stay here," Vetra said, mandibles flexing. "Relax for a while. I'm much less recognizable than the Pathfinder - I'll go look around."

Peebee planted her hands on her hips. "Hey, I can stick my nose into things just as well as you can. Better, probably. I'm coming too."

Sara rubbed her eyes. "Promise to do it quietly?"

Peebee winked, strolling past Sara with her hands on her hips. "Trust me, Ryder. No one will even know I was here."

Vetra remained until Peebee had vanished over the lip of the stairs. She gave Sara a pained look. "If I hear anything useful, I'll let you know. Otherwise, I'll give you a call in an hour or so."

"Thanks."

The sound of the turian's footsteps soon faded amongst the gusts and echoes of the cave system. Sara's legs had stopped shaking, but they still felt weak and watery; like her bones were full of milk instead of marrow. She sighed quietly, her eyes drifting slowly shut. Her breathing seemed to rock her back and forth, like a cliff diver seized by sudden indecision.

She was so _tired_. Why couldn't things just go right for once? Sara's life was a mess; an unending series of disasters following catastrophes. It was starting to look that way for Reyes, too.

She wished she knew where he was.

Sara pushed herself forward onto her hands. It hurt, but she eventually managed to stumble to her feet and brace herself against the wall. She knew that sitting here was the prudent course of action. Peebee and Vetra were right. If she waltzed around asking questions about Reyes, she'd help draw connections between him and the Charlatan.

But she could be subtle. She could look around. She could make herself feel like she was doing something - because sitting here wasn't helping anyone. She wandered out into the caves again, being sure to keep her head down. She didn't talk to anyone, and she tried to avoid making eye contact with the exiles that stumbled past. She simply _walked_ , trying to ignore her aching feet as she dragged them across the rock.

What would she have done, if she were Reyes? A burning building at her back, a bullet wound leaking blood, and screaming patrons all around. Where would she have gone?

"Hey," someone hissed.

Sara jumped like someone had hit her with an electric current. Her pistol was in her hand before she knew what she was doing. Her heart was pounding like a pulsar; her chest was full of fire -

" _Hey!_ " The salarian that had snuck up behind her stuck his hands in the air. Sara had her gun jammed against his chest, and he trembled like a tattered pennant as he stared down at the barrel. "I wasn't trying to - oh, _shit_."

Sara sucked down a shallow breath. This was serious déjà vu - only this time, she was the one with the gun. "Why are you following me?"

"I wasn't!"

"Bullshit."

The salarian's mouth worked silently for a moment. "No, really! It's just you - you looked bored, you know, so I figured…"

"What?" Sara glanced over her shoulder, just to be sure. She didn't see any accomplices. Maybe this _wasn't_ a repeat of her last visit to Kadara.

He grimaced. "I've…I've got some product to move, lady. You looked like you could use some."

Sara frowned. Her breathing felt a little easier, now. Fear had loosened its grip around her neck. "Product?"

"Oh, yeah." The salarian managed a tremulous little grin, gesturing at the satchel hanging from his shoulder. He lowered his voice to a whisper. "Collective don't like it moving on Kadara, but I've got connections."

Sara removed her gun from his chest, but she didn't put it away. "Let me see."

The salarian kept one eye on the pistol, but he opened up his bag. Inside were a handful of tiny vials. Sara knew what it was, even before SAM spoke into her ear.

"Pathfinder, those vials contain purified Oblivion."

Sara tried to control her expression, but something must have slipped - because the salarian grinned at her. "See, I knew you'd like this. Got that look about you."

Sara might have laughed, if she didn't feel so much like screaming. "Where did you get this?"

The salarian shook his head. "I'm not telling - I'm _selling_. You want some or not?"

Sara wished she could ask SAM a question without the dealer overhearing, but he appeared to pre-empt her thoughts. "I recommend we take a sample to Dr. T'Perro, Pathfinder. She may be able to discern something about the production process - or perhaps how the formula was rediscovered."

"Fine." Sara's throat was suddenly dry. She wished Vetra was here. Did drug dealers accept omni-tool transfers? Did they take credits at all?

Maybe she was glad Vetra _wasn't_ here. She'd probably make fun of her - or worse, ask if Sara was okay.

It turned out the drug dealer did accept omni-tool transfers. Sara walked away feeling like she'd taken a shower in engine oil. The tiny weight in the satchel on her belt seemed denser than a neutron star. She wasn't sure where to go, so she just kept walking - and her feet carried her to the wall that separated the badlands from the slums. She stood there for a while, feet tracking aimless paths across the stone while her eyes drifted out of focus.

"SAM?"

"Yes, Pathfinder?"

"Be honest with me. If you had to put odds on it, how likely is it that Reyes is still alive?"

"We found no bodies, Pathfinder, and only a small amount of blood. The chances are good."

"But the attackers' bodies weren't there, either. Maybe they took him away."

"I stand by my earlier analysis. We have no reason to conclude that Mr. Vidal is dead."

Sara just nodded. Her eyes were starting to prick with tears, but she blinked them away furiously. She examined the tiny markings on the wall: the joints between the metal plates; the minute fissures in the alloy; the tiny scuff marks left by desperate exiles as they dug their fingernails into the grooves -

Sara blinked. There was blood on the wall.

She knew it was a desperate hope, but she hefted her scanner anyway.

"SAM?"

"This sample matches the blood we found on Mr. Vidal's couch. It appears very likely that he fled to the badlands, Pathfinder."

Sara's heart leapt. "Tell Peebee and Vetra to get down here. We've got some wilderness to search."

They roamed around in the Nomad until the sun finally sank behind the mountain. Sara was so exhausted that Vetra almost begged to take the wheel, but Sara couldn't have slept if she wanted to. She was wired like Gil on a caffeine-fuelled all-nighter - and she probably looked like it, too. Peebee cackled with delight every time Sara took a hill too fast, but Vetra clung to her seat in tight-lipped fear. She even called Scott to talk his sister down, but the other Ryder had no success.

The others offered to help, of course. Liam suggested they take shifts while Sara got some rest. Jaal recommended they ask Keema for assistance. Vetra shot that plan down immediately, though. If Reyes hadn't gone to Keema, he'd probably had a good reason. Surprisingly, Drack was the most supportive. Sara was handling it like a krogan, he said. It made her feel absurdly proud. Eventually, though, she almost took the Nomad off a cliff in Haarfel - and that was when Vetra put her foot down.

" _Enough_ , Ryder. We're not going to find anyone if you smash us into pieces."

"Fine," Sara hissed. Her hands were shaking.

"Hey," Peebee crooned. She reached over the back of Sara's seat to rub her shoulders. "We'll go back to the ship, grab some shut-eye, and we can come back in the morning. Easy."

"No."

Reyes was out there somewhere. He was probably scared, he was probably bleeding, and he was definitely alone. When Sara was scared, bleeding and alone, Reyes had come after her. She doubted he'd gone home for a nap and a bath whenever he got a little sleepy.

"Ryder -"

"I'm sleeping in the Nomad. You can go back to the Tempest if you want."

They didn't, of course. They couldn't all go to sleep out in the middle of the badlands, though, so Peebee volunteered to take first watch. She accepted the duty quite gleefully when she realized she'd get to use the night vision scope on Sara's rifle. She scampered onto the roof of the Nomad with a cheeky wave and a whispered goodnight. For a while, it looked like Vetra would take the opportunity to give Sara a scolding - but she apparently thought better of it.

Sara slept, but only briefly. She fell asleep quickly enough, because her head started to spin and her limbs turned feather-light the moment she closed her eyes, but the darkness behind her eyelids wasn't comforting. She had scattered dreams of fiery heat and leaden cold, and she was grateful when Peebee shook her awake.

"Psst," Peebee whispered. "Don't tell Vetra I woke you up, but I figured you'd be mad if we cheated you out of your turn."

"Damn right," Sara whispered. Her limbs screamed silent protests as she hauled herself out of her seat and onto the roof, but the weight of the rifle in her hands was comforting. She gave Peebee a silent salute as the vehicle doors closed.

She settled herself on her stomach, scanning the dagger hills through the scope. The night vision turned the world into a staticky mess of green and black. She found herself drawing patterns in the air, letting the greens meld together into webs of soothing light - and had to shake herself awake. Vetra would kill her if she fell asleep up here. Something else might _actually_ kill her.

Something stirred the pebbled rock behind her, and Sara's heart nearly stopped. She took a deep breath, ready to roll out of the way -

But the voice at her back turned her bones into honey. "You look like you're waiting for someone."


	12. Pretend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I stayed up late writing this because I felt so bad about leaving you with that cliffhanger. Apologies. <3 Hope this makes it up to you. Kind of NSFW.

Sara didn't even look shocked when she turned around to meet his eyes. She looked _happy_   - and relieved, and trusting, and a host of other things that Reyes hadn't dared to hope for. Even in the darkness, he could see something shining in her eyes.

"Reyes?" She put down the rifle and slid over the side of the Nomad. She stumbled a little when she landed. "Thank _god_ -"

She hurled herself into his arms. Reyes caught her on reflex, staggering backwards slightly under the full weight of her armour. Pain lanced up his injured arm, but Reyes didn't care. Sara was clinging to his biceps, fingers digging deep into his flesh, but the last thing he'd ever do was ask her to let go.

"What happened?" she breathed. Her eyes tracked across his face; eyes to lips to jaw and back again, like she couldn't believe he was really there. "Why didn't you contact me?"

"I wanted to," Reyes murmured. He leaned his forehead against hers, drinking in her closeness the way they'd drunk that stolen whiskey. Shit, it felt like so long ago. "Sara -"

She kissed him, and the shock shattered Reyes' thoughts like glass. Her kiss was desperate and careful all at once; slow and cautious, like she worried her lips might be unwelcome, but full of passion all the same. Her touch melted him like wax, and Reyes could feel the warmth running through his bones. She paused for breath, a quiet gasp lingering in the air between them, and Reyes' lips burned with the lack of her. Her fingers tightened on his arms.

Her whisper was barely audible, but it made Reyes' ears ring. "I thought you were dead."

"I'm not."

Maybe Reyes pushed her up against the Nomad, or maybe their tired legs just gave way. Sara caught his lower lip between hers, murmuring some pretty, wordless vibration, and Reyes' breath caught in his throat. There were a thousand things they needed to say to each other, but he couldn't bring a single one to mind. She kissed him again, quiet, slow and soft, with one hand pulling at his collar. Reyes pressed closer, pinning her up against the vehicle. Her armour was digging into his chest, but it was just another worldly hurt that Reyes didn't notice. He reached up to touch her, thumb dragging along her jaw, and Sara gasped again. She pressed harder against him, like she was just as desperate for closeness as he was; released the pressure on his shoulder to hook one arm around his neck.

Reyes wanted to be careful. He was injured, she was healing, and there was a mountain in between them only miracles could scale. But there was something about Sara that dissolved his stone foundations. The weight around his neck should have made his shoulders tense, but warmth was sliding down his spine instead. The contradiction had him reckless and fearful, deepening the kiss as the heat pooled in his gut. She opened her mouth to allow it, pulling hard on his collar like she was dragging him down to into the dark.

The world could have ended, and Reyes might not have noticed. They'd barely scratched the surface of each other; barely progressed past _what do you do_ and _where are you from_ \- but he was ready to crumble in her hands. This _had_ to be what love was. Decades of scepticism made the word seem somehow _wrong_ \- but Reyes couldn't find another. It was quiet, painless agony, blurred to pleasure at a touch; breathless desolation and a shivering cry.

Her lips left his for a moment. Reyes could do little but follow them, chasing their softness as they dragged across his jaw. Then Sara pressed a kiss below his earlobe, right where his pulse beat out its wordless plea.

"Don't leave me like that again," she whispered. She didn't know how his heart screamed _I won't, I won't_ in reply; couldn't know, because her heart refused to hear it. "I need you. Like…"

"Air." He said it without thinking. _Like I can't breathe without you._

Sara went still - but then her lips grazed his throat. "Yeah," she murmured. "Like that."

Reyes couldn't take it. He slipped his hand behind her head, pulling her lips back within reach. He kissed her hungrily, this time; desperately, even - so deeply that Sara slammed a hand against the Nomad to brace herself - but it was still slow. Aching slow. Supple slow. Sara kissed him like she wanted to stay here forever.

Reyes wanted that, too.

But Sara's hands were shaking. Reyes' thudding heartbeat faltered. "Sara? What's wrong?"

"Nothing," she whispered into his lips. "Nothing -"

"But your hands are -"

"Don't you _dare_ say I'm trembling."

" _Ahem_."

Sara froze. Reyes froze. The turian called Vetra poked her head out of the Nomad's window.

"Looks like you found him, Ryder. Nice work."

 

* * *

 

Reyes showed them to where he'd been hiding. It was difficult to fit a fourth person in the Nomad, but they managed to make it work. Sara tried to insist on driving, but steam threatened to come out of Vetra's ears.

"You're about to have a _complete physical breakdown_ ," the turian snarled. "Vidal, you two are sharing a seat. Get comfortable."

Reyes didn't complain. Sara curled up on his lap as the Nomad made its way through the hills, her head lolling on Reyes' shoulder. Her armour was digging into his hip, probably hard enough to leave a bruise, and her weight was putting pressure on his wound again, but Reyes didn't mention it. The turian was right; now that the shock of their reunion had worn off, she looked as though she was on the brink of collapse. Reyes murmured directions to Vetra as quietly as he could, hoping Sara might fall asleep.

"This is where we tracked that smuggler to, right?" Peebee was whispering too. Reyes had caught the worried looks the asari tried to hide.

"Zia? Yes. It seemed too cosy a hideout to leave empty." He regretted answering, because it startled Sara back to wakefulness.

Her words were thick with fatigue. "How did you make it all the way out here?"

Reyes pressed a gentle kiss to the shell of her ear. "There's a rover around the back," he murmured. "I may have…liberated it from one of the Collective outposts. There are benefits to knowing all the codes."

"But you walked all the way out to meet us?"

"Yeah." It had something to do with being subtle, and a lot to do with being suave. He'd seen the Nomad through his scope and just _known_ he had to surprise her.

Vetra parked the Nomad as close to the structure as she could manage. Sara shook off everyone who attempted to help her over the rocky terrain to reach the entrance, but Reyes could see her legs trembling.

How long had it been since her imprisonment? The AI in her head must have helped her to heal, but he should have been surprised to see her standing at all. Guilt settled in his gut like ice water. He should have gotten a message to her, no matter the risk of discovery. Sara glanced over her shoulder before she climbed the ramp to the door, and Reyes expected to see reproach there.

But he didn't. He saw exhaustion, of course, and pain - but delight, too.

She was happy to see him. She was _happy_. Maybe it shouldn't have surprised him, but it left a strange, tender feeling nestled between his lungs.

"Codes?" Sara asked.

"Right."

As soon as they were inside, Vetra looked pointedly at Sara. "Sit down before you fall down, Ryder."

Sara held up her hands as if in surrender. She obeyed, but not without difficulty; everyone saw her wince as she lowered herself to the floor. Peebee sat down beside her, cross-legged like a child in a classroom. Vetra just leaned against a wall.

And they all looked at Reyes expectantly.

"What happened?" Sara asked.

So Reyes told them: about the attack on Tartarus and his desperate escape to the badlands, although he left out the part about the woman that used Sara's name; about his efforts to clean and bandage the entry- and exit-wound in his arm, despite Sara's look of horror; and about his continuing attempts to find out who had linked him to the Charlatan.

"So that's why you didn't contact Keema," Vetra said thoughtfully. Reyes was still a little uncomfortable discussing his secret so openly with Sara's friends, but there was nothing for it now. "You're worried she might be involved."

"Not Keema specifically," Reyes clarified. He leaned back against the door, tapping once to check that it was locked. "I trust her. I trust all of my first-tier lieutenants, but _something_ has gone wrong. Until I find my leak, I have to assume that everyone is compromised."

"First-tier?" Sara echoed.

"Right." Reyes exhaled slowly, raking a hand through his hair. There was so much that Sara didn't know; so much that _no one_ knew. "You could say they're my 'direct' contacts. They each have a number of their own trusted agents - second-tier, as it were. And it continues on like that, down to the contacts that control cells of rank-and-file members."

"So that's how it works," Vetra murmured thoughtfully. There was professional admiration in her tone. "The Collective's a giant tree diagram, but only a few people know where the tree starts. Got to be hard to maintain that level of secrecy. How do you fund it?"

Reyes shook his head, smiling wryly.

"Keema said the organization would keep running while you were gone," Sara cut in. "So you give her and the other first-tiers their orders and then…sit back?"

Peebee snorted. "Kinda makes it seem less cool than it did before, Reyes. Maybe keep that particular secret a secret for good. Preserve that aura of mystery."

Reyes shrugged. "My organization's structure isn't unique, and I suspect it wouldn't be hard for someone to figure it out. Thankfully, it appears that whoever betrayed me didn't know everything. Those thugs that came after me only wanted me to  _direct_ them to the Charlatan."

"Good," Sara muttered. She yawned widely, then blinked several times in quick succession, like she was trying to refocus her vision.

Peebee saw it too. "I want to go back to sleep," she complained pointedly. She stretched out on the floor, apparently ignoring the rivets in the metal. "You guys should, too."

Vetra nodded. "You got a look-out post, Vidal? I haven't taken my watch yet."

Reyes shrugged. "Only a roof. Sorry."

"On it."

"Actually," Peebee said, glancing quickly between Sara and Reyes, "I'm coming too. Haven't been on a roof in _ages_."

Vetra rolled her eyes. She gave Reyes a pointed look as he unlocked the door for them. "Let her sleep," she growled under her breath.

Reyes transferred her the door code with his omni-tool, using the rapid series of beeps that indicated a successful exchange to hide his quiet response from Sara. "I'm a gentleman, Vetra. I'm going to look after her."

He might have imagined it, but he thought she flexed her mandibles in approval as the door slid shut behind them.

As soon as they were gone, Sara let out a sigh. "Don't ever tell Vetra this happened, but I honestly can't stand up. Is there anywhere softer to sleep than the floor?"

Reyes smiled down at her. "Don't tell Vetra this happened either, but I can't pick you up with all that armour on." He knelt down beside her. "There's a bed on the upper level. What passes for one, at any rate."

Sara made a noise that could have been a laugh or a groan. She pointed at a clasp just below her left shoulder. "Want to help?"

Reyes was amazed by how complex her segmented armour was. She had to give him her instructions piece by piece, giggling sometimes when he struggled with a clasp that should have been easy to deal with - but the giggles were silenced whenever his fingers brushed her skin. When all the articulated pieces lay scattered on the floor around her, he helped her to her feet with an arm around her waist. He guided her up the stairs as gently as he could. Halfway up, she stumbled, grabbing at Reyes' arm for support. He couldn't hold back a hiss when her fingers dug into the injured muscle.

"Oh my god." Her eyes went wide. She was mortified. "Shit, Reyes, I'm sorry -"

"It's okay."

He helped her the rest of the way to the top, wishing he could convince her that he truly didn't mind the pain. The bed was really just a thin mattress with a blanket and a pillow, but Sara collapsed onto it immediately. She rolled over onto her back with a sigh of relief - but Reyes could see her shivering. Still, she laughed quietly as he tugged the blanket out from under her and threw it over her instead.

"Lie down with me," she said.

Reyes raised an eyebrow. "Why, Ryder. I never would have expected a _Pathfinder_ to be so forward." He unstrapped his gun belt and lay down beside her anyway, wriggling just close enough to feel her body heat. Sara was quite literally shaking with fatigue, and Reyes wasn't far from that himself. "You're not going to try to seduce me, are you? This might be the one night of my life that I would have to tell you no."

"Nope." Sara sighed quietly and closed her eyes. "But I need to ask you something."

"Your friends may actually kill me if I keep you awake," Reyes warned her. "I’m a man on borrowed time."

She smiled. Reyes was suddenly struck by just how similar the situation was to their last meeting. At least they had a mattress this time. There was no blood, either, if Reyes avoided checking the bandage on his arm.

"Did you order my kidnappers killed?"

Reyes' blood turned cold. Her eyes were still shut, and her tone implied no judgement, but Reyes hadn't forgotten their last conversation.

_You're Andromeda's answer to the Shadow Broker. I'm meant to be a leader._

There wasn't any point in lying to her. Not about this, because she already knew the answer. "Yes."

She didn't reply immediately. The silence stretched out long enough for Reyes to experience every creeping fear there was; to imagine her leaping to her feet, horrified by his ruthlessness - and then long enough for him to think she had fallen asleep. Just as Reyes was about to pass out himself, she finally spoke up.

"I don't care."

"You don't?" Reyes wondered if he'd heard correctly.

"No. I'm glad they're dead." She opened her eyes, rolling over onto her side to look at him directly. Her hand fumbled around under the blanket until she found his fingers. "I don't want to let it stop me anymore. I want to be with you, Reyes. I want to be happy."

Reyes' heart crowded up against his lungs, ready and willing to be thrown at her feet. _I do too,_ he wanted to tell her. _I do too._

But Sara's eyes were glazed over. Her eyelids were fluttering, and Reyes had to wonder whether she really knew what she was saying. Gently, he pulled her hand out from under the blanket. He pressed his lips to the inside of her wrist, and offered her a truth that she already knew; one that wouldn't tie her to him if she woke in the morning and took back her words.

"You are cherished, Sara." She frowned slightly, confused, and Reyes knew that was for the best. "Tell me something about you. About your life before Andromeda."

"Reyes -"

"Please."

She sighed, and her eyes drifted shut again. "I was an explorer."

"Even then?"

"Sort of. I was part of a team that hunted Prothean artifacts."

"An archaeologist?"

The corner of her mouth quirked upwards. "No. A girl with a gun. But I liked to pretend, sometimes."

She fell asleep not long after. That was the problem, Reyes mused as his thoughts spiralled towards slumber. Everybody liked to play pretend.

Sometimes, it was hard to stop.


	13. Euphoria

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW warning. :)

Reyes woke up slowly. There was a pressure on his chest. For a moment, he panicked - had someone finally found him? - but the details slowly trickled back.

He opened his eyes to find Sara's hand resting over his heart.

Reyes didn't know what to do. It was a morning after that wasn't _really_ a morning after. Sara was still asleep, eyelashes brushing her cheeks. Her mouth hung slightly open. She looked paler than she should, but she looked peaceful, too. Honey-coloured sunlight was trickling through the grates in the ceiling, painting everything red and gold like a sunset on the Andes.

He knew he should be afraid - afraid that she'd wake up and remove that comforting weight from his chest; afraid that she'd take back what she'd said to him last night.

_I want to be with you, Reyes._

But he wasn't scared. His limbs felt comfortably heavy, and the throbbing pain in his arm had faded to a dull ache. His heart felt sweetly sore. If they were still in the Milky Way, he'd be trying to guess what she might want for breakfast. Reyes had dry rations stashed downstairs somewhere, but he couldn't summon the motivation to move.

He wasn't sure how long he lay there. Maybe he dozed off, lulled by the gentle sun. Maybe he didn't. Maybe he let his imagination run away with him - but really, who wouldn't? Reyes was in the midst of a crisis, but he didn't feel it at all. He was wrapped in a bubble made of scratchy blankets and impossible daydreams.

But it couldn't last forever. Eventually, he heard the door downstairs slide open. "Anyone up?" he heard Peebee whisper.

Reyes removed Sara's hand as carefully as possible and untangled himself from the blankets. He must have remembered to take his boots off at some point last night, because the cold metal beneath his feet was almost unbearable. He quickly tugged them back on and went down to meet Peebee.

"Sara's still asleep," he whispered. "Talk outside?"

They found Vetra doing stretches just beyond the door. Remarkably, the turian didn't seem the least bit tired, though Peebee told Reyes she'd kept watch all night. Everyone was loath to wake Sara up, but Vetra wanted to contact the Tempest - and, like Reyes, she wanted to avoid EM transmissions.

"Never know who could be listening," she explained to Peebee. "But no one can intercept SAM's QEC link."

"We need to wake her up for that, right?"

"Right."

Vetra caught Reyes by the arm when he moved to go back inside. "Make a bit of noise," she muttered. "Let her think she woke up naturally."

"Why?"

"She gets grumpy when people wake her up."

Reyes laughed, and Peebee gave him an approving nod. "Yeah," she said loudly. "Like that!"

Reyes was still a little wary of the Tempest's crew, but Vetra and Peebee didn't seem to be nursing any grudges. He took Vetra's advice and stomped his way upstairs with the heaviest footfalls he could - but found Sara still fast asleep.

He looked at Peebee. "Suggestions?"

Peebee sighed - and took a deep breath. "HEY, RYDER!"

Sara groaned. Grimacing, she rolled over onto her stomach, seized a chunk of the blanket, and buried her face in the pillow. "Go away," came her muffled response.

Vetra raised her eyes to heaven, reaching down to tug the blanket out of Sara's grasp. "Sorry, Ryder. We need SAM."

Sara made a sound like a wounded animal, but she turned her face just enough to be able to speak clearly. "SAM, please do whatever Vetra wants, and then tell her to go away and let me sleep." She covered her eyes with her forearm, screwing her nose up like a puppy woken from a nap. "I haven't slept this well in _months_."

A pleasant warmth filled Reyes' chest.

"SAM," Vetra said to the air over Sara's head. "We need you to send a message to the Tempest for us. Can't have any transmissions coming in or out of this place except by QEC."

"That will not be a problem," said the voice from Sara's omni-tool. "I have already updated the crew on the status of the investigation." There was a brief pause. "Hello, Mr. Vidal. It is good to see you again."

"It's a pleasure, SAM."

"Sorry, Sara," Peebee cut in. "Guess we woke you up for no reason."

"Thanks," Sara said dully, but she sat up anyway, making another attempt to rub the sleep out of her eyes. She sighed. "Oh well, I'm awake now."

Reyes realized he was smiling. "Well, it doesn't _have_ to be for nothing." Sara raised an eyebrow, Peebee pulled a face, and Vetra sighed irritably. "Just to be clear, I mean that there's something else the Tempest can do for me."

"Sure," Peebee muttered.

"Well." Reyes sat down beside Sara on the mattress. She sent him a sideways smile, and Peebee made another face. "I need to ferret out the mole in my organization. I have a few leads to be chased, but I can't go after them myself. Your crew could help with that."

Vetra folded her arms. She didn't look impressed. "Leads? Plural? Not running a very tight ship, are you?"

Reyes didn't rise to the bait. "Just a very large one."

There were a few groups he wanted investigated. Reyes didn't _suspect_ them, precisely, but they were potential points of weakness. Keema's efforts to misdirect her guards might not have been as effective as she'd hoped. The enforcers Mortan brought in to assist in the assault on Kaetus' compound may have become too detailed in their bragging. Once someone had checked up on them, Reyes could start looking into other people - but he had a feeling that the leak _must_ be connected to Sara's kidnapping. The coincidences were too convenient - and the thugs that attacked him had known to use Sara's name.

SAM relayed Reyes' instructions - "his _requests_ ," Sara corrected quickly - to the Tempest. According to SAM, there was some consternation amongst the crew, but Scott talked them into helping out. Reyes felt an unexpected twinge of discomfort when Peebee reminded him that Scott was Sara's brother.

"I guess we'll go help, too," Sara said when everything was underway. She rolled sideways off the mattress and staggered to her feet - only for Vetra to push her right back down.

"Spirits," the turian muttered. "What will it take to get you to rest, Ryder?"

"I have been resting!" Sara seemed honestly shocked. "I just woke up -"

"SAM," Vetra said pointedly. "Could you remind the Pathfinder what kind of action her doctor cleared her for?"

Peebee waggled her eyebrows meaningfully, and Sara covered her face with her hands.

"Dr. T'Perro did not clear the Pathfinder for field work of any kind, Ms. Nyx. She was under the impression that the visit to Kadara would be quick and uneventful."

"No visit to Kadara is ever uneventful," Reyes murmured. Sara parted her hands to glare at Vetra, and Reyes could see her cheeks were flushed. It left something tight coiling in his belly. _Action_. He could only think of one reason that word might make her blush. "And definitely never  _quick_."

Peebee grinned mischievously. "Vetra's right, Ryder. You're still recovering, so I think you should stay here. Vetra and I can take the Nomad out, no sweat." She winked at Sara. "Kick back. _Relax._ "

"Just stop talking!"

"You'd draw attention, anyway." Vetra beckoned to Peebee. "I'll drive."

"I'll walk you to the Nomad," Sara growled. She hurried down the stairs and snatched up her satchel from amongst the pile of armour pieces on the floor.

Reyes walked with them to the door, but he decided not to follow them over to the vehicle. Sara's ears had turned a lovely shade of red. She took Peebee's elbow in a vice grip and snarled something in her ear as they walked. Reyes leaned against the doorframe and tried to disguise his smirk. Finally, Sara let Peebee go, pressing the satchel into her hands. She clutched at her own elbows like she was physically holding herself back as her friends climbed into the Nomad without her, but she didn't hang around to watch the vehicle leave. She turned her back as soon as the wheels started moving.

Reyes wasn't sure what to do with his hands as she made her way back to him. Her cheeks were still faintly pink.

"Are you still tired?"

"No."

Reyes was sure she was lying. In the full light of day, the bruises under her eyes were stark. But she walked right up to him and slipped her arms around his waist - and Reyes' heartbeat almost seemed to stop.

She leaned in close and kissed him gently, tongue skimming his lower lip like she was savouring the taste. "I feel a lot better now."

Reyes smiled into her lips. Her hands were running up and down his spine, just hard enough for him to feel it through his clothing. "Me too."

Sara froze. "Oh _shit_. I'm such an asshole." She grabbed him by the front of his jacket and started shimmying it down over his shoulders - and the sudden spike of pain up Reyes' arm made it clear what she was talking about. "How the fuck could I _forget_ -"

Reyes hissed through his teeth as she slipped it over his hands and threw it aside. Sara paused, examining the intricacies of his clothing in mild disbelief. "This is insane. How do you ever get this off?"

" _Your_ armour has more buttons than a flight console. You're hardly one to talk." Reyes peeled his gloves down his arms and discarded them on the floor. It was under the pretext of helping her - but really, he just wanted to touch her.

He planted a kiss on the side of her neck, lingering and slow, and Sara sighed happily. She tipped her head back and leaned into his mouth.

"Help me," she murmured. The muscles in her throat pushed against his teeth as she spoke.

Her fingers found the clasp over his sternum and deftly flicked it open. The _click_ split the silence like a gunshot, and Reyes could feel the vibrations in his bones. He grasped her hips and pushed up against her, and she almost staggered back - but she held her ground.

"You made me undress you, Pathfinder." He slid his palm up between her breasts and along the ridge of her collarbone; over her shoulder and behind her neck. "Is it too much to ask for you to return the favour?"

"You're teasing me." Sara didn't say the words so much as exhale them.

She pushed his mouth away just long enough to unlock the hardened plates of his chest guard, guiding it all back over his shoulders. Reyes could have let her go, and the heavy piece would have fallen to the floor.

But he didn't want to.

He kissed the corner of her mouth instead, letting his lips wander down to her chin and along her jaw; down into the hollow of her neck and up to the sensitive spot behind her ear. She squirmed away when he did that, giggling helplessly.

She was ticklish.

Her hands slipped down his torso, seizing on the straps that held his padded harness in place around his waist. "It's like you don't want me to get you naked."

Reyes hummed in the back of his throat, shaking his head despairingly. "Never for a moment think _that_ ," he mumbled. "Usually I have time to take this off while my dates are picking up the check."

That made her laugh. "Smooth." Even through his clothing, Reyes could feel her fingers tracing the outline of his hips. He pushed them harder against her, and Sara inhaled sharply. "You're making this difficult."

He winked at her. "Sorry."

She found the buckle, then, fingers limning the metal while her mouth chased his lips. She sighed contentedly when she finally caught them, tongue curling around his as she dragged the leather through the frame. Reyes groaned into her mouth as she dropped the dangling ends and seized his wandering hands. She pushed them down to his sides.

"Promise to hold still while I pull all this off?"

He grinned as wickedly as he could, but he had a feeling he must look more than a little dazed. He didn't understand how she did this to him. She was more than half a decade his junior; an idealist with a moral compass that should have had her spinning circles in his orbit -

"I promise."

Somehow, he managed it, even when the heavy chest guard slid down over his wound; even when she lifted the padded harness over his head and followed it with a kiss to the underside of his jaw. He felt her smile against his skin, her lips dragging against his stubble and her fingers rubbing circles through his undershirt.

Then her eyes went to the bandage on his upper arm. "Ugh, _Reyes._ "

He'd bled through the gauze. Now that it wasn't compressed by his armour, Reyes realized he should probably have been alarmed. He clearly hadn't used enough medi-gel.

Sara clicked her tongue at him and pushed him back towards the stairs. "You go get comfortable," she said sternly. "It's a good thing _I_ came prepared."

Reyes chuckled, trying to hide his discomfort as he slowly started to unwind the sodden bandage. He climbed the stairs and sat himself down on the edge of the mattress, listening to Sara scrounging around amongst her discarded armour.

"Got anymore bandages down here?" she called.

"In the crate under the stairs."

Sara followed him up to the upper level a few moments later, a tube of medi-gel and a roll of gauze held triumphantly before her. She knelt down beside him, wrinkling her nose when she finally got a good look at the wound.

"That is…pretty disgusting."

Reyes scoffed. "I've seen worse. A lot worse." He wished he could take it back even while he was still saying it, because it was obvious that her thoughts turned the same way his did. He desperately tried to steer them clear. "So… your brother is up on the Tempest?"

"He sure is," Sara muttered. She took his elbow and gently pulled it towards her, coaxing him into holding out his bicep at an angle. She squeezed a huge dollop of medi-gel onto his skin and smeared it around the wound, grimacing a little when the clear gel started to turn pink. "You bled a _lot._ "

"Sorry," he said with a smile. "I ran out of medi-gel earlier."

"How does the Charlatan run out of medi-gel?"

"Let's just say I have questionable priorities. There's a whole crate of whiskey down there."

Sara laughed. "Really, though."

Reyes shrugged with his free arm. "I wasn't quite finished stocking this safe house with supplies. I'm very glad you came along when you did - for a number of reasons."

"Mmhmm. So, that's a normal day for you, is it? Stocking safe houses and bleeding everywhere?"

"Not really, no." He flinched when her fingers slid over the wound with a little too much pressure. "It's only a safe house if no one else knows where it is, so I had to bring all the supplies out here myself. It…took some time."

Sara seemed satisfied with the thickness of the medi-gel, because she set about wrapping his bicep in fresh gauze. "Why did you ask about Scott?"

"I'm curious. He's your twin, isn't he?" Scott was just one of the countless fundamentals that the two of them had never so much as bantered about - and there was no time like the present.

"Yeah."

"And who was the favourite child?"

"Me. _Clearly._ " Sara finished rolling the bandage around his arm and tucked the end underneath the layered cloth. "How's that feel? Too tight? Not tight enough?"

If Reyes was quite honest, he'd tell her that he hadn't been able to feel anything since the medi-gel went on. "It's perfect."

"Good. My hands are all tingly."

They both jumped when SAM spoke up via Sara's omni-tool. "Pathfinder, Lieutenant Harper has asked me to provide the two of you with an update on Mr. Vidal's assignment. The crew intends to split into teams to complete their investigations. Scott, Lieutenant Harper and Nakmor Drack will comprise one team. The second team will consist of Mr. Kosta, Ms. B'Sayle and Mr. Ama Darav."

Sara frowned slightly. "You told them to be _discreet,_ right?"

"Of course, Pathfinder."

"Thanks." An odd look came over her face, then, and Reyes quickly realized that she was hearing something he didn't. After a moment, her eyes went wide, and she stammered out an uncertain reply. "Uh…wow. Yes, SAM. You can ask him."

"Mr. Vidal," came the AI's voice. "How are you feeling?"

Sara's eyes looked like they were about to pop out of her head, but Reyes didn't understand her shock. SAM was being very polite. "Almost like I could wrestle a krogan, my friend. How have you been since we last spoke?"

"Very well, thank you."

Sara covered her mouth with her hand.

Reyes frowned at her. "What's the matter?"

"Just…nothing. Nothing. It's fine."

Reyes couldn't resist the temptation. "Have you been looking after Sara, SAM?"

"Yes, Mr. Vidal. I am monitoring her vital signs as we speak."

"How's she doing?" Reyes tried not to laugh - and quickly dodged the empty medi-gel tube that Sara threw at him.

"The physical exertions she performed yesterday were ill-advised. The creatine kinase concentration in her blood suggests that she has experienced some degree of muscle injury as a result."

Sara rolled her eyes. "I'm fine, SAM. Let me know when the others have anything to report, okay?"

"Yes, Pathfinder."

When it was clear that SAM was done talking, Reyes reached out to brush his knuckles along her arm. Sara's demeanour abruptly changed. Her eyelids lowered, bright eyes turning smoky, and she climbed onto the mattress with him, kicking her boots off as she went.

"Muscle injury, huh?" Reyes removed his boots as well, then rolled onto his knees. He crawled over to touch her, one hand cupping her face as he pulled her in for another kiss. Sara rose up towards him, hands sliding over his shoulders to hook around the back of his neck.

"Maybe," she breathed. "Don't listen to SAM. He's a snitch."

Reyes grinned, but she quickly kissed his smile away. He pushed towards her gently, and Sara took the hint, sliding her legs out of the way so she could lie down on her back. Reyes followed her down and lay on his side, propped up on his good elbow while his other hand traced up and down her thigh.

His hair fell down to tickle his forehead when he leaned over her. Sara brushed it back from his eyes with a smile, and Reyes had to wonder if that spreading warmth inside him might melt him down to nothing.

"Well," he murmured. His fingers found the zipper at the front of her undersuit. "I guess you should let me take care of you, then."

Sara was blushing again. "I guess so."

The day passed slowly, but Reyes wished it could have passed more slowly still. He lost track of time amidst the sound of their breathing and the slide of his skin against hers. Sara stayed soft and gentle at first, breathing like fluttering silk as he coaxed her through the peaks and lulls. At times, she turned demanding, pushing Reyes onto his back and drawing panted pleas from his lips. At others, she yielded beneath him like clay, clinging to his body with warm palms and shuddering thighs.

It was slow and straining euphoria, and Reyes didn't want it to end.

They paused to rest occasionally, and SAM chose those moments to provide updates on the Tempest crew's efforts. Sara was mortified the first time the AI cut in, but Reyes made it clear he wasn't bothered. He slid his hand down over her belly, murmuring something like _I don't care if he watches,_ and Sara's embarrassment disintegrated.

They talked, too, but the words all blurred together. They joked about what they'd order from room service and told vacation horror stories from the Milky Way. Sara talked about the time she went to Rio, and how the sunlight there reminded her of the sunlight here. Reyes told her about his favourite place on Earth: that warm and breezy rooftop near flight school, where the mountains rose tall on one side and the ocean spread wide on the other. His description made her smile.

"That's odd." She smiled coyly, like she'd been saving this for a while. "Because my favourite place on Kadara is a rooftop, too."

When the sun was almost gone, Reyes climbed out of bed to switch the overhead lights on. Sara followed him, her palms sliding over his naked hips to press flat on his stomach. She pushed close against him and rested her chin on his shoulder. Reyes couldn't stop the little sigh that escaped him as he leaned back into her. He closed his eyes.

Her lips brushed against his earlobe. "Reyes?"

"Yeah?"

"I know we'll have to keep this a secret."

Reyes mumbled his agreement. He was drained and warm and _happy_ , and he didn't want to think about the future.

"But I can do that," Sara whispered. She hugged him closer and pressed a kiss to the top of his shoulder. "I love you."

Reyes' heart felt bruised and tender. She'd said it before, but this time it felt _real._ This time, she was whole and healthy and happy, instead of dying and delirious. He could feel her heartbeat steady against his back.

This time, he'd take it.

Gladly, and without reservation.

"I love you, too."


	14. One Thing At A Time

"Pathfinder."

Sara was dozing comfortably when SAM's voice in her ear startled her awake.

"Huh? What?" Sara blinked furiously. Reyes was asleep beside her, sprawled out like a starfish with one arm hooked over her waist. The sight made her heart thump pleasantly.

"Scott asked me to inform you that he and Nakmor Drack are on their way to your location. He also told me to tell you that they are bringing food with them."

Sara sighed. "Okay. What time is it?"

"It is just past seven AM. The Nomad should arrive in approximately twenty minutes."

Sara groaned. "Scott's going to try to embarrass me, isn't he?"

"Your brother anticipated that you would say that. He asked me to assure you that he is, quote: 'only being nice'."

Beside her, Reyes stirred, nose wrinkling and eyelids fluttering - and Sara's heartbeat faltered again. "You _do_ like him, don't you SAM?"

"I call Scott by his first name in order to differentiate him from you, Ryder."

"I was talking about Reyes."

"I believe we have discussed this before. I do not 'like' anyone."

Sara rolled over onto her side and planted a kiss on Reyes' forehead. "Good morning," she crooned. When he didn't move, she kissed him again. "Good _morning_."

Reyes sighed, but his eyes opened a crack. "Hello," he croaked. "You look lovely."

"It's the messy hair, right?"

"I think it's because you're in my bed."

That sent a stripe of heat down Sara's spine. "We have company coming," she told him. "Scott and Drack are bringing us breakfast."

Reyes' eyes flew open. "Your brother. And the krogan."

"Yes."

"Should I be alarmed?"

Sara couldn't help but laugh. "If I say no, will it help?"

Apparently not - because he scrambled out of bed and fumbled for his pants. The bandage on his arm was still pristine, which was encouraging. Sara rolled off the mattress as well, pushing her tangled hair back out of her face.

"Uh, does this safe house of yours have a shower?"

Reyes paused. "Good point. I'll come with you."

"We've got twenty minutes," Sara said firmly.

"Eighteen," corrected SAM.

\---

Sara was warm, clean and deliciously relaxed when the Nomad pulled up outside. She was dressed, too, which was a good thing for everyone. So was Reyes, and he'd gone to great pains to re-bandage his arm and strap on the entirety of his layered armour. He seemed a little nervous, but Sara decided not to tease him about that. He flinched when someone knocked on the door.

SAM chirped in her ear. "Pathfinder, Scott asked me to tell you that he is outside."

"He just knocked on the door, SAM. I think that's pretty clear."

"He claims he is merely being thorough, Pathfinder. He also said something about making sure you are 'decent'."

Sara groaned, but she couldn't help but grin at him when she opened the door. "You're an asshole, Scott."

Scott was grinning too, and he pulled her into a hug as soon as he could. "Guilty. Oh - ew. Your hair's wet."

"Not sorry." Sara found herself face-to-face with Drack, who was standing behind Scott with a huge rations container clutched in his arms. "How's it going, old man?"

"Good, kid. You still in one piece?"

"Sure am."

Scott let her go. "We've got a delicious parcel of dried Initiative rations for you. Oh, hey -" he peered over Sara's shoulder - "you ever tried these, Reyes?"

Reyes was lingering by the stairs. He was leaning against the railing, thumbs hooked into his belt - and from his pose, it would have been easy to think he was totally relaxed. He smiled easily. "We exiles all came over on the Nexus, my friend. But Sara said you were bringing _food_."

Scott laughed, and Drack rumbled agreement. "Man's got a point."

Sara had to admit that she _hovered_ while Drack unpacked the rations. The old krogan wasn't precisely glaring at Reyes, but any expression other than a grin on Drack tended to look like impending doom. Hell - sometimes the grin was dangerous, too.

Scott was all smiles, of course. "Gotta admit, Reyes, I've heard a lot about you already."

"All good things, I assume."

"Absolutely. Sara won't shut up about how great you are."

That made Reyes smile. "Well, that is certainly good to hear."

"But then there's what everyone _else_ says."

It was amusing to watch Reyes trying to figure out how to react. Sara almost expected him to default to his usual flirtatious banter - but he seemed to realize how inappropriate that would be. His gaze kept flicking back and forth between Sara and Scott as if the family resemblance unnerved him.

"Just what have you heard about me, Scott?"

Scott's grin turned a little evil, and Sara felt sorry for Reyes. "Well, someone said you like my sister. What the hell is up with that?"

They all sat down on the floor to eat. Sara could have cried with happiness when Scott passed her a thermos full of coffee. It was too hot to slurp, so she restrained herself to tiny sips while she picked at a dry slice of protein cake. Reyes didn't look thrilled by their breakfast options, but Sara knew from experience that the food he had stashed in the crates at the back of the building didn't contain anything better - except whiskey, of course. He hadn't been kidding when he said he had questionable priorities.

Scott ate slowly, too. To Sara's relief, he didn't needle Reyes too much; he kept his questions light and airy, and he played interference whenever Drack got gruff.

"So," Drack grumbled at one point. "You've been holed up here for a whole day, Vidal. Made any progress with your little problem?"

"I was hoping you might tell me," Reyes replied smoothly.

"We found a whole lot of nothing on that excursion you sent us out on," the krogan snapped back. "So I found myself wondering what you've been doing with _your_ time."

Sara had taken a very poorly timed mouthful of coffee, so Scott beat her to it. "I'm sure they were both catching up on their sleep, Drack. We've got two recovering GSWs, here. Say - on that note, didn't Lexi have some stuff we were meant to give Sara?"

"Hmph. Yeah, she did."

"Maybe you two should go grab it."

Putting aside her coffee, Sara clapped Drack on the arm. "Great idea. Hey, old man - help me up?"

Drack rolled his eyes, but he did haul her to her feet. Sara followed him out to the Nomad, wondering whether she should say anything.

"Is it just my imagination, or were you being a little tough on Reyes back there?"

The old man scoffed. He hoisted himself up into the Nomad, digging around for something under the back seat. "Maybe I was," came his muffled reply. "But the guy's meant to be a crime lord. If you ask me, he doesn't need our help."

"Uh huh. So you're upset that he's not being suitably independent."

"Hah. No." He dropped back down to the ground with a metal canister and a datapad in his hands. "Just be careful, kid. So far as I've seen, Reyes has been nothing but trouble for you. No reason to think that trend won't continue."

"Thanks for the tip."

Drack held out his plunder. "The container's full of meds. Don't ask me what they are, 'cause I don't know. Doc said something about vitamins and blood pressure."

"Joy of joys," Sara murmured. She gave the canister a shake, frowning at the sound of pills clacking around inside. "And the datapad?"

"Report on that drug sample you sent her."

Sara's interest was immediately piqued. She'd almost forgotten about the Oblivion she'd sent back to the Tempest with Peebee. She eagerly unlocked the datapad - only to find that Lexi's report spanned close to a hundred pages.

Sara groaned. She didn't have the patience for this. "Cliffnotes, SAM?"

There was a moment of silence while SAM processed the report. "Dr. T'Perro has confirmed that the Oblivion that was sold to you in the slums is chemically identical to the compound sold by Sloane Kelly's Outcasts. She notes, however, that the purity of your newer sample is considerably lower than what was available before you destroyed the Outcasts' production lab. She has also indicated that the ratio of deuterium in the sample is higher than expected."

"Oh?"

"You may recall that Dr. Nakamoto's procedure utilizes unique Kadaran bacteria that release Oblivion as a product of their metabolism. Dr. T'Perro has posited that the sample you purchased may have been produced by bacteria grown in an off-world lab. Resulting metabolic stress may explain the lower product purity. Furthermore, the deuterium ratio is consistent with hydrogen isotope abundances on Elaaden.

"It should also be noted, Pathfinder, that the lower purity may also be explained by metabolic stress caused by other factors. This is not proof that the sample originated from Elaaden."

Sara sighed. She wasn't sure what she'd been hoping for - but a flashing neon sign to point her to the bad guys might have been nice. Still, it was more than she'd known before.

"Any ideas on how they got the formula, SAM?"

"No, Pathfinder. Dr. T'Perro's report is unable to shed any light. It is possible that an enterprising biochemist rediscovered Dr. Nakamoto's bacteria. It is also possible that his production methods were somehow leaked."

"Hmph." Drack sounded thoughtful. "Ever wonder what it's like to be one of those people who just do one thing at a time, kid?"

"All the time."

Sara was reluctant to go back inside. Standing by the Nomad, she was close enough to hear Scott laughing and see Reyes smiling, but not close enough to hear exactly what they said to each other. It was a pleasant sort of in-between; it gave her all the fuzzy feelings, but spared her the anxiety of wondering when one of them would decide to tell an embarrassing story.

It also meant that Drack would stay away from Reyes. That might be a good thing, at least for now.

Drack was watching her. "You going to work the field today?"

"Why do you ask?"

"I'm just not used to seeing you sit around, is all. Figured you'd be raring to go after spending so long cooped up."

Sara would never have admitted it, but that left her a little offended. "I _am_! I'm ready to get out there!"

"So why haven't you?"

Sara glowered at him. "I just needed the rest," she said firmly. "Body's still healing, right? We don't all have redundant organs."

But Drack had a point. It was definitely time she got back on the horse. She was in the uniquely privileged position of being almost completely physician-free down here in the badlands, so helping Reyes to find his leak probably presented her best chance at putting herself out there _without_ having to fend off Lexi's ministrations. Sure, it would definitely be nice to spend another day locked away with Reyes - but it would be _nicer_ to do that once he was safe from whoever it was that was hunting him.

Inside, Scott must have said something funny, because Reyes was laughing so hard that he had to brace himself with one hand on the floor. The grin on his face made Sara's heart feel full and her knees feel weak. Drack snorted irritably.

"You gonna be needing more _rest_ today?"

Sara wanted to kick him in the quad, but she knew that wouldn't end well for her. "You know what, Drack? I _will_ come with you today. I'm going to show you what a healing human can do."

He beamed at her - and Sara almost felt guilty for being annoyed. "Glad to hear it, kid. Looking forward to seeing you kick some ass."

Lexi had very thoughtfully included a list of dosage instructions inside her medications package, so Sara swallowed a few of the pills before she and Drack went back inside. Scott and Reyes had finished off the coffee - which left Sara feeling rather betrayed. Reyes winked at her when she sat down beside him, though, so Sara figured she could forgive him. Scott was a different story altogether; he raised his eyebrows at her and fixed her with his almost-but-not-quite-smirking face.

"Reyes agrees that I'm the pretty sibling, Sara. I've officially got you beat."

Sara kept her expression very still. "Good thing, too. We can't all be clever and talented."

Scott only grinned in reply, and Drack gave one of the irritated sighs he usually saved for Liam. The krogan didn't sit down. "So. Charlatan."

Reyes didn't miss a beat. "Yes?"

"Both those places you sent us to yesterday turned up absolutely nothing. You got any more ideas for where to look for this mole you've got?"

Reyes' good humour abruptly faded. "Yes. I've been meaning to speak to you about that." He sat up a little straighter, his expression growing stern. "You're right, Drack. I can't expect you to do all the heavy lifting for me. This is the Collective's business, not yours."

"Oh, come on." Sara glared at Drack. "Feels like we've helped out everyone _else_ in Andromeda. Why shouldn't we help you out, too?"

"I didn't say you can't help me out," Reyes said. He turned to Scott. "I need someone to speak with my contact, Mortan."

The name sounded familiar. "He's that salarian, right? From Remav?"

Reyes nodded. His eyes still went dark whenever someone mentioned her kidnapping. "Yes."

"All right," Scott said. "So we go find this guy and we talk to him. Where are we going and what are we saying?"

"He owns a building a few streets back from Keema's palace. I'll send the coordinates to your omni-tool." Sara watched Reyes for any signs of discomfort while he did so, but his wound seemed to be healing well. "I've forwarded you a meeting spot in the Kurinth Valley, as well. Tell him to meet me there tonight."

"That's it?" Scott looked almost disappointed. "I was expecting something a little bit more exciting. You sure you don't want us to infiltrate a secret auction? Maybe break into the palace?"

"We'll save that for next time."

"All right!" Sara scurried over to where she'd left her armour pieces and slipped the breastplate over her head. "Coordinates. Message. No problem."

She wasn't looking at them, but the silence behind her was telling.

Drack was the first to speak up. "Good on you, kid."

"You're coming with, huh?" Scott sounded thrilled. "Team Ryder incoming! Should I alert the authorities?"

"Or at least your ship's physician." Reyes didn't seem quite as pleased. "You sure you’re up to this?"

"Of course I am," Sara said firmly. She reached for one of her armguards and clicked it on as ostentatiously as she could. "We're only going to _talk_ to him. What could go wrong?"


	15. Asking's Dangerous

It did feel good to be back in her armour again. Scott made as if to leap into the Nomad's driver's seat, but Sara caught him by one of his armour plates and physically hauled him backwards. It might have turned into one of their usual screaming matches - _I've got longer legs than you,_ followed by _I'm the older sibling!_ \- but Sara didn't want to look childish in front of Reyes. She glowered dangerously at Scott until he laughed and climbed into the back seat beside Drack.

Reyes farewelled her with a kiss, one hand coming up to skim her jawline. Scott would probably tease her about it later, but Sara didn't care. Reyes' expression was tense. "I hope you aren't doing this to impress me," he murmured.

"And if I was?"

"I'd tell you I'm more than impressed enough already."

Sara smiled. She hadn't expected it to be quite this hard to leave him. "You'll be okay here without me?"

Reyes raised an eyebrow. "I suppose it depends on what you mean by okay." His voice grew quiet. "I will miss you every moment you're gone."

Sara's heart almost _hurt_. "Me too. But I'll be back soon."

He kissed her again. "I'll count on it."

The drive back to the port was uneventful - but it was beautiful, too. The sunlight was bright, but not too bright. The sulphurous water was a sparkling, sapphire blue, and the wildlife gave the Nomad a wide berth. Sara felt happier than she could remember being in a long, _long_ time. Suspiciously, Scott spent the ride arguing amicably with Drack over whether the beer at Kralla's was any good. It lulled her into a false sense of security, and she was caught unaware when he hit her with the Reyes questions at the entrance to the slums.

"So where'd you meet him, Sara?" Scott was trekking across the shallow pools on the way to the elevator with excessive caution. Of course, the real point was to make their progress slow.

"Huh?"

"Reyes. What do you have on your dating profile that says 'pair me up with a sexy, smooth-talking crime boss'?"

"Now I know why you waited until we got out of the Nomad. You're right - I _might_ have driven us straight off a cliff."

"Spot on," Scott said happily. "Come on. Where'd you meet?"

Drack sighed heavily. "Even I can tell you that one, kid. Kralla's."

Scott's face fell. "You met him at a _bar_? Man, Sara. That's so boring."

Sara frowned. "It was _not_ boring. He was a contact I was sent to meet by the Angaran Resistance."

"Seriously? All right, that's sort of cool."

"Then he helped me catch a murderer."

"Okay, I get it. You're not boring." Scott was grinning. "And how long have you been dating?"

"Hah!" Drack's laughter was like rumbling thunder. "Dating. That's a good one."

"It's complicated," Sara mumbled in response to Scott's questioning look. He didn't seem like he was buying it, so she kept going. "…Very complicated."

His expression turned thoughtful - and just slightly too discerning for Sara to feel comfortable. "You really like him, huh?" He broke into a grin. "Eager to be Kadaran royalty? Kind of figures."

"You are _so_ annoying!" Sara stomped into the elevator, trying not to slam the cage shut behind them. "But since you asked: yes. I _do_ like him."

Scott chuckled to himself as the elevator rose. He elbowed Drack in the arm, but the old man just rolled his eyes. "That's great, Sara. That's really wonderful." He paused, then, his brows pulling together as if something unpleasant had just occurred to him. "But you…can't be, right? Kadaran royalty, I mean. Anyone who knows you're with him is only a step away from figuring out that he's… you know." He glanced around as if checking for hidden cameras.

"Yeah. I know."

"So…secret relationship?"

"Yeah. I know."

"Wow."

They moved through the port's streets in sombre silence. Sara's good mood now felt a little muted; a little tired; a little drained - or maybe a little presumptuous. She couldn't help but feel some resentment towards Scott for bursting her fragile, happy bubble, but he wasn't wrong. He was only saying precisely what Sara and Reyes both already knew. Still, the affirmation of her fears made Sara's blood run cooler. The sunlight seemed much dimmer than it had in the badlands.

By the time they reached Reyes' provided coordinates, Sara's legs were beginning to hurt. SAM chimed in on their private channel when she started to fall behind the others.

"Pathfinder, Dr. T'Perro has asked me to keep her apprised of your condition. She is concerned about your participation in this mission."

"It's not a mission, SAM. It's a _meeting_. Tell Lexi I'm fine."

"Dr. T'Perro is already aware of the discomfort you are experiencing. Your creatine kinase levels are still high. She would like you to return to the Tempest as soon as possible and have your condition assessed more thoroughly."

"Snitch."

"I am only -"

"All right, SAM. Tell her I'll stop by on our way back."

When Reyes had mentioned Mortan owning a building, Sara had pictured some tiny warehouse prefab. It was definitely a warehouse, and it was definitely prefab, but it was _huge_. Scott double-checked the coordinates, looking a little doubtful, but they were in the right place. Sara muscled her way past him to knock on the door at the front of the building. Her polite knock barely rattled the heavy rolling sheet; she had to hammer on it with her fist just to make herself heard.

"Hello?"

But there was no answer.

Scott glanced up and down the street. "Think there's a password or something? That's something these people would have, right?"

Drack shook his head. "Reyes would've told us, kid. Say what you want about the man, but he's not stupid."

"I'll be sure to tell him you said that, Drack." Sara banged on the door again. " _Hello_!"

"Hold on." Scott pointed at something partially obscured by the lip of the roof. "Is that a security camera?"

"It appears so," SAM confirmed. "Recorded footage from the camera may be stored somewhere inside the building."

Sara sighed. "Just a reminder: we aren't here to break and enter. We're just here to say hi." And possibly thank you. Thank you seemed appropriate.

Scott waved at the camera like a college kid on vacation, then started pacing the length of the door. Sara slammed her fist against the metal again. This time, the resulting _clang_ was loud enough to set her teeth on edge.

"Well?"

"Wait." Scott was peering at something on the ground.

Sara went to join him. She couldn't see anything at first - just the dirty metal grates that ran through all the port's streets. "What is it?"

Scott pointed at the bottom of the rolling door. A small patch of rust seemed to have spread from under the door to cling to the grate's striations. But something about it was weird.

Then Sara saw it: the rust was _dripping_. It was sluggish and slow, more like burnt caramel than water - but it was definitely dripping.

"Shit. That's blood, isn't it?"

Scott bared his teeth in a tense smile. "Looks like it."

Sara brought out her scanner. "SAM?"

"Scott is correct, Pathfinder. The substance is in fact salarian blood. It appears to be leaking from underneath the door."

"Great."

"Grate?"

"I'm going to pretend you didn't make that pun." Sara turned to Drack. "We're opening this door. Can I have some help?"

Both the weight of the metal and resistance in the mechanism made gaining access difficult, but - as Drack declared both loudly and proudly - no krogan was too old to lift some puny aluminium door. Sara tried to help, but she quickly realized just how warranted Lexi's concern was; she heaved and hauled, but her pushing achieved precisely nothing. She breathed a sigh of relief when the krogan finally managed to start the door moving upwards - and recoiled in horror.

A dead salarian was lying on the floor, arms stretched out in front of him like he'd been clawing at the door while he died. There was a pool of blood around his chin, which seemed to be the source of the leak they'd seen outside. The bullet hole between his eyes made the cause of death pretty clear, but it wasn't his only injury. He was covered in dozens of jagged, bloodied cuts; some small, some large, some overlapping.

He'd been tortured.

"That's Mortan," Sara breathed. Behind her, Scott made a quiet gagging noise.

Drack was the first to lumber through the door. "We shouldn't stand around in the open like this."

"Right." Sara followed him in, and eventually Scott did too. She switched on the flashlight on her armour as Drack dragged the door back down again, trying to ignore the stench.

Thank god it was a big warehouse.

Scott still sounded choked. "What the hell happened here?"

"I think we can take some pretty good guesses," Sara muttered. She took a few halting steps around the body, carefully avoiding both the blood and the towering cargo crates stacked around them. "Mortan knew about Reyes. This is bad."

"Body looks a few days old," Drack muttered. "Smells like it, too."

"Let's not talk about what it smells like," Scott said shakily. He gestured at the corpse. "Bullet in his head, but he was trying to open the door. Means maybe he was trying to escape, but somebody caught him."

"Pathfinder," SAM piped up. "The security camera may be able to provide us with some more information. I suggest you attempt to locate the stored footage."

"Okay." Sara wasn't thrilled by the idea of creeping through a dark warehouse that _could_ still have a murderer in it, but she didn't have a lot of options. If she had to take the news of Mortan's death back to Reyes, she wanted to know who killed him. She pulled her gun and wondered whether she'd healed enough to use her biotics.

Scott and Drack followed her through the rows of cargo crates, sweeping their flashlights in front of them. Drack didn't appear nervous at all, and Sara fleetingly wished for a few redundant organs - and maybe a nice, thick exoskeleton. Scott's hands were a little shaky. Sara had the same problem.

"This place is huge," Scott muttered when they'd stalked down three identical corridors. "And dark. SAM, is there _anything_ you can do here?"

"Perhaps you should retrace your steps, Scott. Have you considered searching for a trail of blood?"

They followed SAM's advice - and to Sara's great relief, it turned out to be the good kind. They followed Mortan's spattered blood to a small control room tucked away at the back of the building. Scott exhaled audibly when he found a light switch.

"Fuck," he muttered as the overhead lights flickered to life. "Why was that so cree-"

He shrieked and leapt backwards. He crashed right into Sara, and she squealed as well. Even Drack shifted uncomfortably.

There was a single chair in the centre of the room. That part was _fine_ \- but the blood spattered around it definitely wasn't. It was on the floor. It was on the walls. The chair itself looked almost like it had been painted red. A few split zip ties lay on the floor beside the gruesome setting, hinting at context Sara didn't want to consider.

Scott groaned. "Even the lights are flickering. What the fuck happened here?"

Sara's heart was racing. She hurried over to the terminal on the far side of the room, sidestepping the gore. It took a long time to boot up, and Sara soon discovered why; it contained security videos dating back to shortly after the exiles took Kadara. It amounted to _months_ of surveillance footage.

"SAM? Can you sort through this for me?"

"I am downloading the contents of the terminal now, Pathfinder. I have found relevant footage from the day preceding the attack on Tartarus, both from the camera we saw outside and from the camera hidden several feet away from where you are currently standing. Should I play it now?

"Yes."

Sara knew what was coming the moment the video took shape on the display. The first video showed a figure banging on the warehouse door, just like Sara had a short while earlier. She was an asari, by the look of it, and was flanked by two others: a human woman and a turian. After a moment, they appeared to grow impatient. Together, the three of them forced the door open and hurried inside.

"The people visible in the footage are the same individuals that were recorded entering Tartarus prior to the attack on Mr. Vidal."

There was a sinking feeling in Sara's gut. She recognized the asari. She'd held her arm out to her through the bars of Kaetus' cage, offering her wrist and waiting for a hit of peaceful sleep. The asari had smiled at her.

_You're getting a lot of free product, Pathfinder. Don't be in such a hurry to leave._

"Thanks, SAM." Sara's mouth was suddenly dry. "You said there was another video?"

"Yes, Pathfinder. I must warn you: it is graphic."

He wasn't kidding. Sara had to look away a few times while the video was playing; glance at the floor to steady her stomach, or look at her hands for confirmation that she hadn't died and gone to hell. She couldn't ignore the screaming, though, and it made her feel sick.

And angry.

They _had_ tortured Mortan. For hours, by the look of it, although SAM sped up the playback in order to save them all some time and sanity. They'd tied him to the chair, bound at the wrists and feet, and laid into him with their fists. They'd beaten him bloody, ignoring his cries for mercy.

"To soften him up," Drack muttered. "Poor bastard. Salarians are already soft enough."

When the questions finally came, they were exactly what Sara had expected.

"Where can we find the Charlatan?"

"We know who you are, Mortan. I saw you, back in Remav. Saw you giving orders. You're a big name in the Collective. _Where can we find the Charlatan?_ "

SAM shortened the footage to minutes, though the time stamps indicated that the torture continued for hours. The salarian did his best to resist their questioning, and Sara had to admire his resolve. At first, his resistance seemed borne of loyalty. Later, he fought them simply to ruin their plans. Eventually, though, the truth became clear enough. Neither spite nor devotion invigorated Mortan's struggling.

It was fear.

They bled him down to a pale shell; beat him until bones snapped and flesh blackened - but still, the salarian wouldn't tell. "He'll _kill_ me," Mortan spluttered, and Sara felt ice trickle down her spine. "The Charlatan will skin me alive if I tell -"

"We'll do that all by ourselves," the asari snapped. She gestured to the turian, and he hit Mortan in the stomach again. The salarian would have doubled over, but the zip ties held him back.

"I can't…can't tell you. Please…"

The asari's knife was already covered in blood, but she crouched beside Mortan and dug the tip into his thigh. He winced, but he didn't scream. Sara suspected he'd run out of screams.

"Where -" She punctuated each word with a twist of her knife. "Is - the - Charlatan?"

"I don't know!" Mortan howled - and though Sara knew it for a lie, the torturers all straightened. "But - but I can tell you who does! Please…just…don't kill me."

"Give me a name."

"Reyes Vidal." Mortan's mouth worked silently for a moment, like a fish about to be dragged from the water, and his eyes went to the human woman. "If you…if you go to his private room in Tartarus, say your name is Sara. The waitress will let you in."

The asari hummed thoughtfully. "And Vidal can tell us where the Charlatan is?"

Mortan hung limply in his chair. "Yes."

The torturers retreated to the next room, apparently out of reach of the security cameras. Sara supposed they were debating their next move; whether to kill Mortan now or keep him as insurance.

"He was giving the guy up," Drack muttered. "And he was _still_ shit-scared of the Charlatan. Your boy knows how to keep 'em in line, kid."

Sara nodded almost automatically. She wasn't sure she trusted herself to speak.

_He'll kill me. The Charlatan will skin me alive if I tell._

"I'm sure it was a figure of speech," Scott said eventually. "And whatever Reyes did, at least it sort of paid off. Mortan didn't tell them who he is."

"Reyes was lucky," Sara murmured. She'd always known Reyes was dangerous, somewhere underneath everything _else_ that Reyes was, but this was the first time she'd really felt it.

_The Charlatan will skin me alive._

But Sara was dangerous, too - dangerous to Reyes, at any rate. She was the only reason he was in this situation at all. If Sara had never been kidnapped, the asari wouldn't know who Mortan was; the torturers would never have come here, and they would never have been able to threaten Reyes. Hell, if Sara hadn't begged him to spare Kaetus after Sloane met her grisly end, none of these cascading disasters would ever have occurred at all.

_Say your name is Sara. The waitress will let you in._

"Fuck," Sara muttered.

Scott clapped a hand on her shoulder. "You said it."

"Pathfinder," SAM interrupted. "In the time his assailants were out of the room, Mr. Vidal's associate managed to escape his restraints. He attempted to exit the building via the main door, but his injuries slowed him down. His escape was discovered, and he was executed. Do you wish to see the footage?"

"No, SAM." Sara felt sick. "I don't."

"We need to pass this on to Reyes," Scott said. He sounded very nervous. "And we should probably do it quickly."

"Yes. Okay." Sara swallowed hard, mostly in the hope that it might settle her stomach. "Make sure you've downloaded everything from that terminal, SAM. It might help us later."

They made their way to the exit in silence. When they reached Mortan's corpse, Scott cleared his throat uncertainly. "Should we bury him or something?"

"Nah," Drack replied gruffly. "Let Kadara Port deal with Kadara Port business, I say." For all his apparent indifference, the krogan spared the body a lingering look. "Poor bastard was probably lucky. Remember what Vetra told us when we first got here?"

Sara shook her head. She really just wanted to leave.

She _desperately_ wanted to leave.

"She said no one knows who the Charlatan is." Drack hunkered down, bracing himself, and heaved the door upwards again. The creaking and clanking made bright spots of pain bloom behind Sara's eyes.

"But she also said that asking's dangerous."


	16. Adrenal Activity

The walk back through the port seemed to take hours instead of minutes. Sara's legs were weak and wobbly, almost like she'd spent another month in zero-g. She focused on her breathing: in, out; in, out. The air still smelt like sulfur, but it was better than the alternative. She needed to clear the smell of blood out of her sinuses.

In, out. In. Out.

Scott was walking carefully too, and Sara could see sweat beading on his forehead. His lips were almost white. He was clearly trying to hide his discomfort, but he'd always been a terrible actor. Drack noticed, too.

"You both look like you're about to be sick. Aim it away from me, all right?"

"I'm fine," Scott grumbled - but he looked at Sara hopefully. "We should stop by the Tempest and let Lexi take a look at you."

Sara opened her mouth to protest, but SAM was already speaking through her omni-tool. "The Pathfinder did promise to allow Dr. T'Perro to examine her."

"Great." Scott's relief was obvious. He swallowed hard. "I could use some water. Like, now."

Sara shook her head. Even that small motion made her head swim.

When had she become so sensitive? She'd seen more blood in a few Heleus months than in twenty-two Milky Way years. She'd bled more of it, too. Until now, she'd thought she could handle anything.

Was it the torture? No - she'd seen worse on the Archon's ship. The smell? Maybe. Mortan's body had been lying there for days.

_The Charlatan will skin me alive._

"We shouldn't delay," Sara muttered. Her voice sounded croaky and strange.

SAM didn't precisely sigh -  _couldn't_  sigh, as far as Sara knew - but his tempered voice still radiated disapproval. "Dr. T'Perro is already prepared for your return. She is likely to be disappointed if you delay. You have described this social behaviour to me before, Pathfinder. You called it 'standing someone up'."

Scott gave a helpless, choking laugh - then lurched into a wall, retching. Sara looked away and took deep, gulping breaths.

"Okay, SAM. You win. Tell Lexi we're on our way."

Sara almost expected Lexi to meet them at the boarding ramp, but they arrived to find the cargo hold empty. SAM informed them that most of the crew were engaged in other business around the port - and for that, Sara was grateful. She urged Scott to go on ahead while she took off her armour; Lexi would probably need to  _see_  Sara's limbs at some point, and Scott looked to be in dire need of an anti-emetic. He tried to protest - until a fresh wave of nausea hit him, and he hurried off towards the med-bay with his forearm over his mouth.

Drack chuckled as Scott rushed away. "You Ryders are all alike, kid. Remember when we met, and I threw that kett wraith at you? You looked like you were gonna puke up every breakfast you ever -"

"Thanks, Drack." Sara screwed her eyes shut. "I get it."

Still laughing to himself, Drack deposited his shotgun on top of a cargo crate and headed towards the front of the ship. "I'm gonna fix myself a snack. Want anything?"

Sara shook her head frantically. "Nope. I'm good."

When she was finally alone, Sara's stomach started to settle. She perched on the edge of a crate and set about removing her armour. Her boots came off first, followed by her legplates. Without the rigid polymer to support them, her legs felt even weaker; like her thighs were made of plaster that still needed time to dry. She sighed, trying to rub some life back into her quivering muscles.

_The Charlatan will skin me alive._

"Pathfinder."

"Yes, SAM?"

"Your heart rate is elevated, and your adrenal activity is unusually high. Should I alert Dr. T'Perro?"

"No. I'm fine."

"Are you thinking about Mr. Vidal?"

Sara clenched her fists. "Stop trying to be my therapist. Lexi will think you want her job."

"I am not qualified to practise psychology, Pathfinder. I believed that I had begun to understand your relationship with Mr. Vidal, but it appears that I was wrong. I am not often mistaken."

"Could have fooled me. What don't you understand?"

"Your current state is characteristic of a specific fear response. Are you afraid of him?"

Sara's stomach turned a somersault.  _This_  was definitely increasing her adrenal activity. "No!"

SAM paused. It was unusual for his processing times to last longer than the second it took for Sara to draw breath, and she suspected he never really needed that second at all. He was probably just allowing her to process their conversations at a normal human pace. But this pause lasted so long that Sara began to wonder if she'd broken him - or if she'd finally confused him so badly that he'd decided to swear off human relationships entirely; to turn against his creators, maybe, and enslave the stupid humans that couldn't screw their heads on straight -

Finally, SAM spoke up. "Why not?"

"I don't know, SAM!"

She  _did_  know, but she couldn't find the right words to say it. She braced her hands on her knees and let her head fall forward, closing her eyes to fight the nausea. She wanted to cover her ears, too, but it wouldn't do any good. SAM could poke around inside her head all he liked, and Sara couldn't do a thing to stop him.

"Because he's not the Charlatan when he's with me. He's just Reyes." If the tightness in her chest was any indication, Sara's ribcage was filling with sand. "And I love him."

"And you believe that he loves you."

" _Yes_."

SAM paused again. "Is that enough?"

This time, Sara couldn't answer at all. She focused on removing the rest of her armour instead. Her shoulders were starting to feel uncomfortably stiff, and it made some of the clasps difficult to reach. She wondered if she should walk down the corridor and ask Lexi for help, or whether that might make the doctor excessively cautious. The last thing she wanted was to be confined to her quarters again. She might go mad if she -

"Pathfinder."

"SAM, I really don't want to -"

"Mr. Vidal is attempting to contact the Tempest. It appears that he no longer wishes to maintain radio silence."

Sara frowned. It hurt, but she forced her aching legs to straighten and limped over to one of the ladders. "Why?" she asked as she climbed.

"Without additional data, I can only speculate."

Sara groaned quietly as she reached the top of the ladder and hauled herself to her feet. She tried to keep her back straight while she walked. "Speculate, then."

"The outlaws searching for Mr. Vidal may be scanning for electromagnetic transmissions from the badlands. That particular risk has not abated, but he is attempting to contact you regardless. It is likely that his message is urgent."

Sara's mouth was suddenly dry. She agreed.

She broke into a run, even though it hurt; sprinted to the conference room like a lumbering ahdi fleeing a Fiend and clutched at the sweeping railing for support. Scott and Lexi were talking by the ops table. They hurried forward when Sara stumbled.

"Sara? Are you okay?"

"What's going on?"

Sara shook her head firmly and hauled herself up to the top of the ramp. "Activate the call," she gasped - even before she'd reached the console.

A grainy projection of Reyes took form beside the table. "Ryder!"

Sara might have breathed a sigh of relief, but the tension in his voice was clear. "What's wrong? What happened?"

"Shhhh," Reyes hissed. "Keep your voice down. Listen - we have a problem."

Sara's heart felt like it was clawing at her ribs. "What kind of problem?"

"SAM - if there is  _any_  hint that this transmission is intercepted, will you let me know?"

"Of course, Mr. Vidal."

"Someone found the safe house," Reyes muttered. He smiled while he said it, like he was amused by the quiet irony; like this was all just some silly game that pirates played, and not at all like the kind of conflict that saw people tortured and murdered.

"Shit. Is the door still locked?"

Reyes' smile turned into a grimace. "Yes and no. It's still locked - but they brought explosives with them. I can hear them setting charges."

"We're on our way." Sara spoke into the comm on her omni-tool. "Kallo, fire up the Tempest and -"

"No," Reyes said urgently. "You can't bring your ship, Ryder. If you do, all of Kadara Port will know that you flew out here to rescue someone. They  _will_  put two and two together."

"You can't just -"

"I  _can_  just," Reyes said with a wink. "I'm going to try to slip away through the back door. It's why the rover was parked there, you know." He paused for a moment, his voice turning soft. "I only called to warn you. Stay away, and I'll be in touch when I'm safe."

"No," Sara hissed. She gripped the edge of the console; to give herself an outlet for her tension, maybe - or maybe just to stay upright. " _No_. They'll see you! We found Mortan's body, Reyes! They're going to -"

The news clearly shocked him; his brows pulled together, voice hardening again. "Mortan's dead? What happened?"

"They tortured him, then killed him. He still wouldn't give you up entirely."

_The Charlatan will skin me alive._

Reyes took a slow breath. "Relax, Sara." He said it so  _gently_ , like he was warmth settling around her shoulders. "I'll be fine."

All Sara wanted was to touch him. She needed to feel for herself that his skin was still warm, hear for herself that his pulse was still steady, and know beyond doubt that he was safe. "You'd better be," she murmured.

Reyes smiled. "I'll see you -"

And the feed cut out.

The silence that followed was colder than cryo. A tentative hand brushed Sara's shoulder.

"You okay?" Scott was hesitant;  _worried_.

"Yeah." Sara nodded firmly. "Because we're going to help him."

If it were up to her, Sara would have sprinted to the slums on shaking legs, armour pieces piled in her arms. She would have tried to reassemble the polymer plates while she was driving, and she wouldn't have cared that it was dangerous. If they couldn't take the Tempest, they didn't have  _time_  to mess around - but Lexi and Scott weren't having any of it. They chased her down to the cargo bay and waylaid her before she could leave. Scott snapped her armour back into place while Lexi pricked her arm with a needle.

"It will help," the doctor said quietly. "And I'm going to come with you, Ryder. Just in case."

Sara's heart was still scrabbling against her ribs. Her tongue felt like it was made of wool. Her legs were still aching, but the injection seemed to help. "Thanks."

Drack barrelled in from the galley and snatched up his shotgun. He'd obviously heard the news. "All right, kid." He seemed to have forgotten his earlier hostility towards Reyes. "We going?"

Scott pushed Sara's boots towards her. "I'm  _not_  going near your feet."

As Sara slipped them on, she could almost pretend she wasn't terrified. "We're going."

The walk through the port was unbearable. Sara tried to run, but Scott's hand on her shoulder held her back. He was right, of course, just like Reyes was. She couldn't let anyone see her tearing off in a panic, just like she couldn't let anyone see the Tempest swooping down into the badlands. They were walking the razor edge of discovery, and the slightest stumble could be disastrous.

Sara clung to the bars of the elevator cage as it descended. She just needed to focus on her breathing. In, out. In, out.

Scott leaned in towards her, turning slightly away from Drack and Lexi. "It's going to be okay, Sara. Remember, they don't want him dead."

"Yeah," Sara whispered. "I know. They want information." But it didn't make her feel better.

The air still smelled like blood.


	17. The Charlatan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning - this is a fairly long chapter. I toyed with the idea of splitting it in two, but ultimately decided not to. Have fun. :)

They squeezed into the Nomad like ahdi into a sardine can. Lexi managed to clamber in beside Drack without bruising anything, but she was forced to sit sideways and brace herself against the roof. The crew always said that Sara drove like a maniac, and today she proved them right; Kadara's rocky spires turned to green and amber blurs as the Nomad tore through the paths between the hills. Even Scott clung to his seat like he was waiting for certain death.

But the speed didn't frighten Sara at all. Right now, it was her ally. It was distance that scared her, and it was time that turned her blood to ice.

SAM spoke up about a kilometre out from the safe house in Haarfel. "Pathfinder, I suggest you approach Mr. Vidal's location on foot. Should you bring the vehicle closer to the building, the Nomad's engines will almost certainly be audible from inside."

"Element of surprise?" Scott sounded thoughtful. "He's got a point."

"We don't have _time_ ," Sara hissed.

"He could've escaped," Drack grunted from the backseat. "Could be we're charging in for no reason, kid."

"I agree," Lexi said. Her voice sounded a little strained, like she was sucking in her stomach to fit into the space. "Please be cautious, Sara."

"Fine." Sara swallowed hard. "SAM - did you download the contents of Mortan's terminal?"

"Yes, Pathfinder."

"Sort through it for me. If there's anything you can tell me about the people that killed him, I want to hear about it." The safe house was in a shallow valley, so Sara brought the Nomad to a halt just shy of an outcropping on its edge. "We're going on foot from here. Lexi, you good?"

"Don't wait for me. I'll follow behind."

The sun was at their backs, casting trembling shadows across the rocks as they sprinted down the slope. Sara could hardly feel her legs now, but she didn't spare it any thought. She was breathing quick and deep, and every expansion of her lungs was like the gasp of a straining drive core. Scott and Drack were charging along behind her, her brother's quick footfalls underscored by the krogan's heavier steps. Sara could swear she felt the ground shaking.

How could this be the quiet option?

But she could still hear SAM. SAM was always there. "The safe house door appears to have been opened by some kind of explosive ordinance. Mr. Vidal's rover has not been moved, and an unregistered vehicle has been parked nearby."

"He didn't get away."

"It appears unlikely, Pathfinder."

There was hardly any cover in the area around the building. Sara slowed when they got closer, pulling her gun while Scott and Drack fell into loose formation behind her. She glanced over her shoulder to see Lexi keeping a very safe distance - and promptly put the doctor out of her mind. They slipped around the side of the building, hugging the outer wall and crouching close to the ground. Sara's breathing still seemed too loud, but she could hear muffled voices coming from inside.

Then she heard a yell - or a scream, really; a sound of shock and sudden pain.

Reyes.

Sara couldn't breathe. She moved faster, nerveless feet silent on the rocky ground. She could see a corpse by the door - a human woman with a bullet in her head - but it didn't make Sara feel any better. Her skin felt like plastic fibre stretched tight around her bones. If they hurt him -

Reyes cried out again, but this time his shout trailed off into a breathless chuckle. Sara was close enough to the entrance now to hear his next words.

"…Shit, Liressa. You really weren't kidding."

"Cut the crap, Vidal." The voice belonged to the asari from Kaetus' base; the woman that smiled at Sara while she stuck a needle in her arm - and dug her knife into Mortan's thigh while he screamed. "You don't want to waste your last breaths on this bullshit."

"I'm happy to make it slow," came the resonating voice of a turian. His words sent ice down Sara's spine, but it filled her chest with fire. She crept close enough to the door to press her back against the edge of the frame. "He fucking _killed_ her!"

Reyes scoffed. "I would apologize, but she did try to shoot me. I make a habit of repaying those sorts of favours."

There was a thud and a quiet groan - and Reyes fell silent.

"Cool it, Agatus," Liressa said. While the turian was furious, the asari sounded bored.

"I guess you'd better let me go, then." Reyes' voice was thicker than normal. "I'm surprised at you, Liressa. Last I heard, you were working for the Collective."

She barked a laugh. "I had a lot more fun working for Kaetus. Simpler orders. Fewer rules." She sighed, then, her tone turning icy. "We've already killed one man, you know. He played tough too, for a while - but he gave you up eventually."

It sounded like Reyes spat blood out of his mouth. "Really? Well, that's certainly a surprise." His pause was almost indiscernible - but it was definitely there. "What lies did he tell you about me?"

Sara had to do something. Silently, she gestured to Drack, and then to the opposite side of the door. He nodded confirmation, and Sara directed Scott to a place beside her.

Agatus was growling. "You know who the Charlatan is, you son of a bitch. You're going to tell us, or we'll turn that spine of yours into an exoskeleton."

"Hah. That's colourful."

Sara leaned around the lip of the door. The turian had his back to Sara, but the asari was in profile, reclining on a crate beside him with her legs crossed. Her fingers tapped a rhythm on the handle of her knife.

The blade was already wet.

Reyes was kneeling on the floor, wrists tied behind his back. A purple bruise was already forming on his cheekbone, and someone had peeled off his gloves to carve a gash down his forearm. The cut was bleeding sluggishly, tracking red across the floor in spatters.

Reyes' eyes met Sara's, but he didn't seem relieved. His lips parted slightly. His eyes grew wider.

The turian was advancing on Reyes. Sara trained her gun on the back of the turian's head, right below the point of his fringe. She could shoot him right now - but what if it wasn't fatal? What if he had shields up? What if he hurt Reyes again - or simply put a bullet in his head?

She'd always wondered what Reyes must have felt when he saw Kaetus kneeling over her in the belly of that asteroid. He must have known that shooting Kaetus could be the same as shooting Sara - and that inaction could have meant the end for both of them.

There was a pressure building in her throat and a light coalescing at the back of her skull. Her limbs felt like they were twined through Scourge tendrils; like she was caught in the grip of the black hole above them.

Agatus raised his gun. "Let me show you, you smug, _fucking_ -"

"Don't move!" Sara yelled.

They didn't listen, of course. The turian whirled, though, which was what Sara really needed. He scampered behind another crate right as the asari dropped down behind her own.

Scott sighed explosively, stirring Sara's hair. "Great."

"Fuck off!" Agatus yelled. "This is Collective business."

"Like hell it is!"

Liressa poked her head around the side of the crate. Sara thought about taking a shot at her, but it was too dangerous; one of them was guaranteed to take it out on Reyes.

"Back off," the asari said calmly. "This has got nothing to do with you."

Reyes was trying to break his restraints. Sara could see his shoulders flexing as he fought the zip ties. He was trying to be subtle, but Liressa saw it too. She glanced at Sara again, eyes slowly widening.

But then they narrowed.

Liressa scrambled out of cover, skidding to her knees behind Reyes and ignoring her partner's startled hiss. She hooked one arm around Reyes' neck, pulling back like she was drawing a bowstring; until he was gasping for breath, almost bent over backwards. She pressed the point of her knife to the side of his throat.

"Let him go," Sara said. She said it as calmly and as firmly as she could; like panic wasn't raking her lungs with its claws.

"No way."

Sara knew she had to take control. She could probably hit the asari with a biotic pull, but it would almost certainly hit Reyes too - and it wouldn't stop Liressa from stabbing him. Agatus would be a problem, as well. He might shoot Reyes in a panic. Worse, he might somehow detonate the biotic field. What if -

"What are you even doing here?" Scott yelled over her head, snapping Sara's frayed nerve endings and making them spark like live wires. "What do two outlaws gain from fucking around with the Collective?" Across the way, Drack shook his head in silent warning.

"Hah!" The turian sounded almost legitimately amused. "Are you for real? Do you _know_ what the Charlatan's identity is worth?"

Sara cursed her sweaty fingers. "You're wasting your time. No one will ever give up the Charlatan." Her voice threatened to break over the next words - but she kept it under control. "He would skin us alive."

Reyes didn't flinch. Liressa's elbow was jammed under his chin, forcing his face towards the ceiling, and Sara couldn't see his eyes. She wished that she could.

The outlaws were silent for a long moment.

"You're wasting your time," Sara repeated.

Liressa pulled harder on Reyes' neck, and Sara saw him gasp for air. The asari hissed in frustration. "If the Charlatan's so scary, why are you here? Why do you care so much about Reyes Vidal?"

Shit. Sara fumbled for an answer that might pass muster -

But she was too slow.

"Wait…" Liressa's eyes went wide again. "You're the Pathfinder. You're Sara Ryder." Her voice grew steadily louder. "Your name got us entry to Reyes' room!"

Shit. Sara had to -

Liressa looked at Sara, then at Reyes - and her face lit up with glee. "Holy _shit_. I thought you were a go-between… but _you're_ the fucking Charlatan!"

Sara's blood was freezing; on the edge of crystallizing as it changed direction in her veins. Reyes barely reacted. There wasn't much he could do, half-choked by Liressa's grip.

The asari's eyes came back to Sara. "And you're _fucking_ the Charlatan!"

"You're wrong," Sara snarled.

But she'd always been a terrible liar.

Liressa crowed with delight. Sara's eyes followed the tip of the blade as it seesawed back and forth, quivering over Reyes' jugular.

"Shit," Scott whispered.

Agatus leaned in closer to his partner, but he had to shout over her giggling. "We've got leverage now," he yelled. "Spirits, stop _laughing_!"

Maybe Sara's heart should have been pounding, but it felt like it had stopped instead. Her body seemed more brittle than glass, though her nervous system was barely aware of it; she couldn't process anything but that oscillating knifepoint.

"Let me be clear," Sara said.

She didn't shout, exactly, but she didn't whisper either. Her words weren't careful. They came from somewhere so deep inside her that she couldn't name the source, bubbling up around her lungs and spilling into her throat. They rushed upwards towards freedom too quickly to be choked down.

They came out cold, too, like the permafrost on Voeld - but they burned like the core of a star.

"If you hurt him, you won't leave this place alive. I'll make you wish you never climbed out of cryo."

The asari's laughter stopped. She whispered something to her partner that was too quiet to discern. Sara could see Reyes' shoulders bunching as he worked his wrists against his ties. Liressa must have felt it, too.

Sara's fingers tightened on her weapon.

Liressa raised her voice again. "All right, Pathfinder. What will you give us to walk out of here?"

"Your lives."

"I've got a knife at your boyfriend's throat, sweetheart. I've got the fucking Charlatan at my mercy." Her voice climbed higher at the end - like she couldn't believe her good luck. "I'm not leaving empty-handed."

Sara didn't flinch. "I've already told you - if you hurt him, I'll kill you." She paused. "If you leave here now, you get what you came for. Do you know what the Charlatan's identity is worth?"

That seemed to make Liressa think. She leaned over to speak with Agatus, whispering harshly. Reyes was fighting harder now - so hard that Liressa pressed the blade up under his chin. He froze, panting, as a line of blood ran down his neck. He still couldn't look anywhere but up.

It felt like Sara's heart had wrapped itself around her lungs.

Finally, Liressa spoke up again. "If we let him go, you let us walk out of here. No pursuit. No -" she jerked Reyes' chin higher - "Collective assassins. You let us go."

Lightning flooded through Sara; relief, maybe, but more likely just renewed fear. She wouldn't trust that he was safe until she could wrap her arms around him.

"Fine."

Liressa didn't put her knife away, but she removed it from Reyes' neck. Agatus helped her drag Reyes to his feet, but she didn't release her grip on his throat; she dragged him back towards the other exit, oblivious to how he twisted and gasped as his spine struggled to bend like she demanded.

There must be a lead weight on Sara's chest. She could barely breathe. "Drack," she muttered.

Drack kept his voice low, too. "Yeah?"

"Go wait by the other exit. Keep out of sight."

Drack nodded. He moved off more quietly than any krogan had a right to do, and Sara felt Scott's hand on her shoulder.

"Sara…"

She shook her brother off. She stepped out into the open, walking forward slowly; matching the outlaws' pace as they retreated. It must have made Agatus nervous, because he trained his gun on her - but Sara kept walking. There was a pressure swelling deep in her chest, building with every inch that Reyes moved away. She couldn't bear to let the space between them stretch.

The outlaws had reached the back door. Agatus grabbed Reyes' bleeding arm and held it to the locking mechanism. "Code," he growled. "Quickly."

But Reyes delayed. Sara couldn't have said why. Maybe he was trying to think of a way out of this; a way to keep all his blood in his body without losing his secret as well. He was gasping for air, and Sara's heart ached with every rasping breath.

"Pathfinder," SAM said in her ear. "Nakmor Drack is in position."

Agatus was getting impatient. " _Now_ , Vidal."

Grimacing, Reyes twisted around far enough to punch the code into his omni-tool. He slumped back as the door slid open. "Go to hell," he snarled.

"Let him go," Sara demanded. She didn't want to sound like she was begging, but she was walking a razor edge. When Liressa hesitated, a fresh wave of terror washed over her. "Let him _go._ "

The asari grinned. "Okay."

She shoved Reyes away. He stumbled forwards, helpless to fight his own momentum, and staggered into Sara's arms. She caught him with hands that felt suddenly frail, clutching at his back like she was holding her own heart in her chest. Hell, maybe she _was_ \- she could feel it hammering against her ribs while her nerve ends lit up like landing beacons; screeching a hopeless signal that sounded a lot like _Reyes, Reyes, Reyes._ She wanted to cry with relief.

But they weren't done. "Drack!"

She heard it when the krogan charged. Sara turned on one foot, still clinging to Reyes with one arm while she fired with her other hand. He groaned, fumbling to balance himself against a wall that wasn't there.

The outlaws must have sprinted for their rover the moment the door opened, because they were already far enough away that Sara's fire was ineffective - but Drack didn't have any problems. He let out a terrifying roar as he chased them down, shotgun spraying lead in all directions. The turian went down with a scream and a splatter of blue.

Sara dropped her gun. Mass effect fields sprung up around her fingers, and she threw everything she had at Liressa. The asari shrieked as gravity drove her down into the rocks. She screamed again as Drack approached - and once more when he shot her at short range.

An almost eerie silence fell, but Sara was oblivious - because Reyes was swaying back and forth on his feet. She helped him sink down to the floor and braced him against the wall, trying to keep her fingers from trembling as they skimmed his bruised cheek. Her heartbeat was pounding in her ears, shaking her skeleton and blurring her vision, and she didn't hear it when Scott walked up behind her. She didn't notice when Drack stomped his way back inside.

If she had, she might not have cared - because Reyes was bleeding.

But his good hand snaked behind her neck, and he pulled her forehead down to meet his. His skin was still warm, and his heart was still beating. He managed a smile, too, though the bruise on his cheek made him wince.

"You're a very dashing rescuer, Sara - and _fast_ , too. What's your secret?"

It was still hard to breathe, but Sara found herself melting anyway. "I had a good reason," she murmured.

Still smiling, Reyes kissed the curve of her jaw.

Behind her, Drack was sending a message to Lexi. "You can come in, doc. Vidal's gonna need some help."

Sara knelt beside Reyes until the doctor appeared. They hardly spoke at all, communicating with touch instead of words. Reyes' fingers traced circles on the back of Sara's neck while her thumb stroked the inside of his palm. She pressed close beside him, letting body heat say everything she couldn't give voice to - but she suspected he heard it all anyway. He must have heard her heartbeat, too. Sara's adrenaline was eking away, and the pain in her legs was finally starting to return. She ignored all of it - because Reyes was _safe_.

Scott tugged at her arm when Lexi arrived, pulling her away so the doctor had room to work. Lexi knelt down on Reyes' other side.

"Hello," she said warmly, smiling her best bedside smile. "I'm Dr. T'Perro. Let's take a look at your arm."

Reyes chuckled, though it sounded a little strained. "Please, don't let me slow you down."

Sara didn't want to leave him - not even for a second - but Scott was insistent. He drew her towards the door, and it was all Sara could do not to look back over her shoulder. Scott let her go when they reached the bottom of the stairs. He was watching her intently.

Sara didn't even look at him. Reyes' head had fallen back against the wall. She watched him close his eyes and bite down on his lower lip as Lexi sealed the gash on his arm. He turned his head to the side, hair falling forward over his face; eyes flickering open and lifting to meet Sara's. His lips quirked upwards in a glassy smile.

Sara's heart beat harder against her ribs, like it was trying to reach out through her chest; like all it wanted was to be close to him, no matter how much it hurt.

"Sara." Scott's voice sounded distant, like Sara was hearing him through a dream. " _Sara_."

"What?"

"What the _hell_ was that?"

Sara frowned. The effort seemed insurmountable, but she dragged her eyes away from Reyes. Scott was glaring at her. "What's wrong?"

He was pale - and _shaking_ , though it took Sara a moment to realize it. "What just happened?" he whispered harshly. "You shot them in the back!"

"Yeah. I did." Sara didn't need the reminder. She'd do it again, if she had to.

"They were running away. They'd basically surrendered!"

Sara folded her arms and glared at him. "What did you want me to do?" She kept her voice low, keenly aware of the other ears in the room.

"I don't know - maybe not murder anybody?"

Anger flared in Sara's belly, hot and acrid and _biting_ \- and more than a little sickening, too. "They would have killed us if they could, then sold Reyes out to whoever they could. It's not like they were innocent."

Scott's eyes widened. He leaned back on his heels, folding his arms over his chest like he was unconsciously putting up defences; like he was trying to widen the distance between them. "Jesus, Sara. Are you listening to yourself? You had Drack fucking _chase them down_ -"

"I didn't have a choice!"

She was too loud. Drack was trying not to look at her, krogan ears probably burning - but Reyes was watching. He was too far away to hear what she said, but he must have seen something of it on her face.

Sara lowered her voice to a whisper. "I didn't have a choice," she repeated, balling her hands into fists. She dug them into the tops of her thighs - but their shaking didn't stop. "If I'd let them go… If they told anyone that he's the Charlatan - _fuck_ , Scott, I _couldn't_ let them go. I couldn't let anyone -"

She broke off on a sound that could have been anything between a sigh and a sob - because she couldn't draw breath to keep going. Her lungs felt like they'd been shrunk down to nothing, squeezed flat by the weight of the terror inside her. When she looked at Reyes, it all swerved right back the other way; her heart swelled with longing, pressing tight against the apex of her ribs, and Sara could barely breathe for love of him. She was teetering on a precipice, caught somewhere between a life she didn't want and a life she couldn't lead - and she didn't know what to be afraid of anymore.

Scott's anger crumbled. He'd always been good at hearing what she didn't say. He put a hand on her shoulder. "You okay?"

"Maybe."

They stood in silence for a while, watching Lexi work. She used her omni-tool to stimulate the medi-gel she'd applied to Reyes' arm, then wrapped the limb up in another bandage. Reyes muttered something about rough handling, but Lexi only sighed amicably and tightened the binding. She asked if he'd like some medi-gel for the bruise on his face, but he shook his head.

"I'm told that scars are sexy. The same is true of bruises, surely."

He thanked Lexi when she was finished, of course, and the doctor walked away with a knowing smile. She came to stand beside Sara at the bottom of the stairs. "He's a charming one," she said with a _look_ \- but her mouth soon turned down at the corners. "You know, I never did get that chance to examine you."

Sara shrugged. "I'm good." Her legs were aching, of course, but she was well and truly used to that. "How is he?"

"More than fine." Lexi gestured over her shoulder. Reyes' head was lolling against the wall again. His eyes weren't quite closed, but it was a near thing. "I gave him a mild sedative, just to be on the safe side."

Sara sighed. She wished Lexi hadn't done that. She was wrung out and exhausted; drained like a power cell left for too long in the cold. She had no idea what to do next.

"We can't stay here," she sighed, dragging the back of her hand across her eyes, "because that door's never going to close. And we can't take him back to the Tempest, because someone's bound to see. Ideas?"

Scott shrugged. The fight had gone right out of him - and the motivation clearly had, too. Drack gave him a look that reached new depths of disappointment.

"Keema, kid. Send her a message and get her out here to take over."

Sara's throat felt tight again. "Can we trust her?"

"You've gotta trust _someone_ ," the old krogan rumbled. He turned to address Reyes. "Hey, Vidal - we're calling that angaran friend of yours. Sound good?"

Reyes grimaced. His eyes had drifted shut. "I'd rather you didn't," he mumbled.

Scott sighed. "Would be a shame to go through all this just for someone to see Sara dragging you back to the Tempest. Got anywhere else we can hide you?"

Reyes' voice had fallen so low that Sara struggled to hear him. "Apartment in the port. Up on the hillside above the docks. It's probably safe now."

"All right," Drack said. Suddenly, he was taking charge. "I can't carry him up there - nothing more memorable than a krogan hauling a human up a hill. The Pathfinder's out, 'cause she's too recognizable. Scott's out, same reason." He glanced sideways at Lexi. "You feeling up for a little cardio, doc?"

Lexi's eyes widened. "You want me to do it?"

"Sure." The old man grinned. "If anyone asks, you pretend the two of you have been on a bender all week. With a woman like you, who's gonna blame him?"

Sara had never seen an asari blush before - but Lexi's cheeks turned distinctly pink. "I don't know -"

"Please, Lexi." Sara's voice didn't quite tremble, but it came awfully close. "We're out of options here."

Lexi glanced at Sara, then glanced at Reyes - and finally, she sighed. "All right."

They took two vehicles back to the port. Scott volunteered to ride with Lexi in the Collective rover, and Sara had the feeling he was trying to avoid her - but right now, she didn't have the energy to care. She curled up with Reyes in the back of the Nomad, a little surprised by Drack's careful driving. It was a smooth ride through the hills, with Reyes' head resting on her shoulder. He was half asleep, lulled by the sun and the sedatives, but he let her smooth some medi-gel over the bruise on his cheekbone.

"Thought you wanted to look sexy," she murmured.

"So did I." He smiled weakly, although his eyes stayed closed. "But it really hurts."

Just like that, Sara's bones were built from gossamer - and her heart was made of glass. Her touch became yielding, like Reyes was made of glass as well; like his skin was fragile gauze any careless touch might break. Some of his pain seemed to ease as she brushed the gel across his cheek.

"Thank you."

She draped an arm over his shoulders. His breathing slowed to a crawl when she slid her fingers through his hair, tips mapping gentle patterns on his scalp. He was warm. He was breathing. He was safe.

"Pathfinder."

"Yes, SAM?" Sara kept her voice to the barest whisper. She knew she'd have to wake Reyes when they reached the port - but she didn't have to do it now.

"I have found something of interest in the data downloaded from Mortan's terminal."

Sara sighed. "They're all dead," she whispered. "Mortan, too. Is it really relevant?"

"I believe so. The files were encrypted, but protocols capable of preventing my access are not yet available in Andromeda." SAM was an AI; almost by definition, his voice was not expressive - but for a moment, Sara was sure he sounded sad. "It appears that Mortan was responsible for managing Collective production of Oblivion on Elaaden."

"What?" Sara was sure he'd screwed up. "Don't you mean -"

"No, Pathfinder. I cannot misspeak."

Sara's fingers halted mid-caress, but Reyes didn't stir. He was out like a light. "What did you find?"

"Numerous records related to the Collective's efforts to identify Dr. Nakamoto's bacterial strain," SAM replied, "in addition to communications confirming their success. It appears that production commenced several months ago."

Sara struggled to respond. Reyes' weight was suddenly heavy, and Drack had turned his head to listen. He only heard half the conversation, of course. Sara envied him.

"It appears that the asari Liressa was a low-level Collective distributor before she abandoned them to take up employment with Kaetus. Perhaps it was Liressa who provided him with the Oblivion used to incapacitate you."

Sara's shock had her by the throat, but her heart wasn't racing. Her ears weren't pounding. She was just _cold_. Her chest filled with ice like she'd ranged too far afield on Voeld; like she was drowning in a snowstorm with the sun snatched out of reach.

But she needed to say it. She needed to form the words herself.

"Did Reyes know?"

"Yes, Pathfinder. He is present on several of the video recordings. He will not be pleased to hear that Mortan kept such detailed archives."

Sara turned her head to look at him, sleeping soundly on her shoulder. His hair had tumbled over his forehead again. He sighed in his sleep, and Sara felt something inside her crack in two.

She'd always hated the concept of heartbreak. It was a word both drenched in drama and drained of nuance, because hearts didn't break - they _bled_. To _break_ implied a permanence that Sara couldn't bear.

But there was a piercing pain behind her sternum, and Sara couldn't think of a better word.

She closed her eyes. She pressed a kiss to the Charlatan's brow.

It seemed like an eternity before SAM spoke up. "Are you all right, Ryder?"

"No, SAM. I'm not."


	18. Bleeding Credits

Feeling came back to Reyes' body slowly, like dew condensing on his skin. He tried to clear his throat, but his muscles had other ideas; all he managed was a quiet groan. The sound was broken and breathy, like running water over coals. His lips felt puffy and his eyes were dry. He rolled over onto his side, stretching limbs that screamed in protest and a spine that could have been moulded from plaster. His arm no longer hurt, though. That was nice.

"Ugh. What did your doctor give me?"

There was no response. He twisted his neck to look over his shoulder, but Sara was nowhere to be found. He was alone on the bed in his cramped mountainside apartment, though the darkness made it hard to tell; twisted up in the dusty sheets like he planned on being mummified. Someone must have dragged him up here - and now that he thought about it, there was no way it could have been Sara. It would have been too risky.

Whoever it was had left him in full armour - a relief, if Nakmor Drack was who he had to thank for his transportation. The leather creaked as Reyes pushed himself up onto his elbows, fumbling around for the light switch. The slatted blinds covering the window opposite the bed let a few horizontal strips of neon light leak in, but the room was otherwise dark. He'd only stayed in this place a handful of times since he acquired it, and he wasn't thrilled by the idea of stumbling into the furniture. When the clicking fluorescents filled the room with their anaemic light, Reyes was reminded why he rarely returned. He hauled himself upright, though his head spun a little, feet stinging as he crossed the cold floor.

He found his boots by the entrance to the other room. His shoulder muscles burned when he bent to pull them on. The events of the day were slowly trickling back, and he could have mapped his heart rate with the progress of his sluggish thoughts. Attack, capture, resistance. Sara. Sara. Sara. He remembered falling asleep on her shoulder.

There were only two rooms in this place, and the second was as silent as the first. It wasn't as dark, though, because someone had raised the hanging end of the blinds in here. The resulting beam of pink-purple-blue sliced the space almost in half. There was a woman sitting on the couch, illuminated from the neck down. She was staring out through the half-bared window, mesmerized by the play of lights below.

She turned around when she heard Reyes enter, and he caught a glimpse of an asari scalp crest. "Good morning," Lexi said pleasantly. "Or maybe I should say good evening. How are you feeling?"

Reyes smiled at her, though his face still felt like it was made of plasticine. "Like a new man," he said - and it wasn't entirely a lie.

Liressa and Agatus were dead, along with the human outlaw he'd put down outside the safe house. By now, he knew better than to trust appearances, because neither appearances nor luck had done him any favours lately - but he suspected the danger was over.

No. He _knew_ it was over, even if he still planned to confirm. Reyes was safe. Sara was safe. They would still need to be discreet, but they didn't need to fear. They could leave this break-neck pace in the past and work everything else out slowly. Even the thought made him feel a little strange, like his thoughts were coded in an alien language. _Slowly_.

Lexi smiled. Reyes couldn't make out her eyes, but her expression seemed a little strained. "And your forearm? Is there any pain?"

"No."

"Sara -" She paused as if reconsidering her words. "The Pathfinder mentioned you were wounded a few days earlier. She asked me to check your progress before I leave."

Reyes shrugged. He found it a little strange that she was using Sara's title, but perhaps she liked to maintain a professional distance. There was no harm in it. He turned his back on her while he peeled away enough leather to give her access to the wound on his upper arm - or what used to be the wound, at any rate. It didn't hurt anymore, but he could feel the hardened medi-gel clinging to his skin.

"Where's Sara?" he asked as he shucked his jacket.

"On the Tempest," Lexi replied. Why did she sound so careful?

"Is she okay?" His bicep finally bared, Reyes turned around and held it out an angle the doctor could work with - but she looked like she wanted to jump out the window.

"Yes, of course. She's taking the opportunity to rest."

She used her omni-tool to slice through the old bandage, then held the tool to his arm while some silent frequency jostled the layer of gel. Reyes might have squirmed away - it _tickled_ \- but something about the way she spoke made him nervous. She wasn't telling him everything.

She manipulated the muscle, digging her fingers into his flesh. "Any pain?" Reyes shook his head. "Good. You can wash the remaining gel off the next time you shower." She gestured to the bandage that covered him from the elbow down. "This should stay wrapped for another three days, but make sure you change the bandage every night. I've left some gauze in your room. Once you're ready, you can destabilize the gel with the frequency I've transferred to your omni-tool."

Reyes worked his arm up, down and around, testing his range of movement. It should have been satisfying - but it wasn't. "There's something wrong, isn't there?"

Lexi was quite clearly holding back a sigh. "I'm not the right person to talk to," she said quickly. Apparently satisfied that Reyes was in good health, she hurried over to the door, snatching up her bag from the rickety table as she went. "I'm going back to the Tempest."

"And I should give you a call if it gets worse, right?"

"No." She paused in the doorway, stripes of neon framing her in a flickering cage of light. "I suspect we're leaving soon."

Then she was gone - and the light was branded on the inside of Reyes' eyelids.

Reyes was confused. Leaving his jacket and chest guard on the floor, he stumbled into the bedroom and heaved open the crate he'd stashed in the corner. It stirred up a cloud of dust - and maybe a bit of mould. He covered his mouth with his forearm, coughing helplessly as he fumbled through the contents.

 _I suspect we're leaving soon_. What the hell did that mean?

He found what he was looking for right at the bottom of the crate: a tiny communicator. It wasn't a QEC, of course; he could count the number of those in Andromeda without running out of fingers. Thankfully, he didn't need quantum entanglement for a transmission to the docks. He felt a stirring of worry, even if the port's everyday comm traffic would make his transmission almost impossible to track - but it was engulfed by a _real_ fear. It was pulsing under his diaphragm, disrupting his breathing and bending his ribs.

Lexi's sedatives had really knocked him around, but he didn't think he'd lost _that_ much time. The last thing he remembered was Sara playing with his hair. Had something happened to her? What had he missed?

Reyes felt like climbing out of his skin while he waited for someone on the Tempest to pick up. He threw himself onto the bed again, legs hanging over the edge. The comm buzzed every three seconds or so, just to assure him that it was still functioning - but Reyes was beginning to wonder if it was broken by the time someone finally accepted the call.

The audio activated with a quite _thump_ and a scuffle, like someone was fumbling their end of the transmission. It was Scott. "Uh, hi -" There came another quiet sound, like someone smacked him on the arm. "Reyes?"

"Scott. Lexi was just here -"

"Yeah, she - uh - she's not back yet, but she called to say she checked out your arm."

Reyes covered his face with his hands, grinding the heels of his palms over his eyes. "She was acting very strangely. Can I talk to Sara?"

Scott hesitated. There was another _thump_ , and he quickly spoke up. "Yeah - no, actually. Sorry. She's asleep."

Reyes' hands fell away. "Did something happen?"

On the other end of the comm, someone groaned. The noise was muffled, like it came from across a room. "Why are we dancing around this?" It sounded like Cora Harper.

"Shut _up_ ," Reyes heard Scott hiss.

Cora called out again, her voice distorting as if she'd stuck her head around a doorframe. "Sara!"

Scott sighed. "I can give her a message, if you want."

"Scott." Reyes spoke quietly; dangerously, almost - the way that almost always worked when he really wanted something. "What's going on? If anything has happened to Sara -"

"Nope. She's fine. Oh, look!" His voice was full of fake cheer. Scott must be smiling a huge, phony smile, because he was railroading Reyes like a nervous receptionist. "I've got to go - I'll let her know you called!"

And the comm went dead.

What the hell was going on?

He could try to call again, but he knew how that would end. He could email Sara, but there was no guarantee she'd see it. Maybe he could send someone else to the ship - a messenger, maybe, although there was always a risk that -

The comm chirped loudly, and Reyes nearly dropped it in his hurry to answer the call. "Sara?"

"No, Mr. Vidal. This is SAM."

For a second, Reyes wasn't sure how to respond. "SAM?"

"Yes. Are you well, Mr. Vidal? If you are experiencing long-term amnesia -"

Reyes sighed. "I know who you are. I'm just surprised." He sat up again, ignoring the flakes of solidified medi-gel he left scattered on the sheets. "What's going on? Why are you calling me? Is Sara all right?"

"The Pathfinder is unharmed," SAM replied. Reyes was listening for slips; tone variances; _anything_ \- but the AI's vocal patterns never changed. "I would like to ask you some questions, if you have the time to answer them."

"I didn't know you could make your own comm transmissions," Reyes muttered.

"I have made numerous transmissions in your presence, Mr. Vidal, including both short- and long-range communications."

"That's true." Reyes rubbed his eyes again. They kept drifting out of focus, tangled by the lights that crept in under the blinds. "But I figured you…I don't know - needed Sara's permission or something."

"I do not."

"So why are you here?"

"Ordinarily, I have no interest in facilitating interactions between myself and other organic lifeforms. Alec Ryder and I agreed that it was best that I remain limited to observing organic relationships, rather than participating in or influencing them directly."

Reyes was speechless again. "Okay. But I'm still confused. Why are you _here_?"

"I am directly connected to the Pathfinder's neuro- and physiological processes," SAM replied. Reyes had heard all that before. "What this means in practice is that I experience what she experiences. I feel what she feels."

Reyes chuckled. "Are you flirting with me, SAM?"

"No, Mr. Vidal. However, the Pathfinder's relationship with you has provided me with a wealth of new experiences. The nature of my being compels me to seek explanations for these experiences, and for the resulting impact on my understanding."

"You're talking in circles."

"To put it simply: we need to talk."

"All right." Reyes moved to the window, prying open a gap in the blinds with his fingers. He could see figures moving through the streets below, though their edges were blurred and shifting. The bright lights made his eyes sting, but he didn't look away. "First, you need to tell me what happened."

"Approximately half a Kadaran day has passed since you fell asleep during the drive back to the port. While you were asleep, I was able to access surveillance and communications records that had been stored on a terminal belonging to your late associate, Mortan."

A silence followed, as if SAM was waiting for Reyes to react. Perhaps Reyes would have been quicker, if not for the lights in his eyes and the fog in his brain - or maybe he'd just forgotten that Mortan was dead.

That meant that the files were _taken_ , not given. That meant there was no sanitation; no selection and removal of inflammatory material.

And that was _bad_.

When he replied, his voice was grating - like it scraped over glass on its way up from his lungs. "And?"

"I found sufficient evidence to prove that you are responsible for continuing the production and distribution of Oblivion in Heleus. I am speaking to you because the Pathfinder will not."

And there it was. For a moment, Reyes didn't feel anything - but it hit him a moment later. It was like stepping into the black hole and leaving his lungs behind. He lifted his arm to brace himself against the top of the window frame - even if he knew it was a stupid impulse. Clinging to the metal couldn't stop the way the world was spinning. It couldn't stop him from finding the bottom of this hole.

He didn't know what to say.

SAM continued anyway. "Why did you hide this information from the Pathfinder?"

Reyes pushed his face into the crook of his elbow. It really felt like the window frame might vanish at any moment; like he was a heartbeat away from plunging down into the sea of neon colour below. "Why do you think, SAM?"

"I often experience difficulty interpreting answers that take the form of questions. I would appreciate clarification."

"She didn't ask."

SAM's tone still hadn't changed - but he managed to sound disgusted anyway. "Mr. Vidal -"

"I already felt guilty enough," Reyes hissed. He wanted to throw the comm out the window. He wanted to wind back the clock. "It was so - I haven't had time to _breathe_ since I returned to Kadara. It's just been crisis after crisis."

"If you had possessed sufficient time," SAM pressed, "would you have told her of the drugs' source?"

Reyes didn't answer. He squeezed his eyes shut instead.

But SAM was relentless. "Mr. Vidal?"

"No."

Where was Sara right now? On the Tempest, presumably - but that told him nothing. Was the ship leaving Kadara? Had it already left?

"I must confess to some confusion," SAM continued. "The Pathfinder has explained that it is not uncommon for humans to lie about being in love, but I am usually capable of detecting the bio-indicators of outright lies."

"I wasn't lying." Suddenly, Reyes was angry. He didn't want to say it; didn't want to step on a heart that was already half way to being broken all over again - but he had to. He wouldn't let a machine tell him it knew him better than he did. "I _do_ love her."

"Then I must ask: why did you do it? The Pathfinder clearly communicated her stance on Oblivion to you the first time she was on Kadara, and you used the opportunity to position yourself as morally superior to Sloane Kelly." The AI paused. "Was that the lie?"

"No," Reyes hissed into the window pane. "I _was_ the better choice, SAM. I don't charge protection fees to people barely able to feed themselves, and I don't throw them into the badlands when they can't pay." He pushed himself off the window frame and slid down to the floor instead. His head hit the wall hard enough to rattle his teeth. "But being the Charlatan takes _credits_."

"Is that why you began manufacturing Oblivion?"

"Yes."

For a moment, the AI was silent - and Reyes began to think that he believed him. But -

"You're lying. You have continued your donations to the soup kitchen and to Dr. Nakamoto's clinic. If credits were your only concern, you would have stopped these payments."

"I just wanted Ryota to give me the formula," Reyes muttered.

"That is also a lie. If that were your goal, the payments would have stopped once the Collective uncovered the necessary bacteria. Dr. Nakamoto's records include large donations made as recently as a week ago."

Reyes sighed. "How does Sara live with you?"

"She often ignores me. But I would appreciate a truthful answer."

Reyes wasn't sure he could give one. He _had_ been tight on credits; eliminating Sloane's stranglehold on the exiles was why he'd taken Kadara in the first place, so he'd abolished her protection payments the moment Keema's ass was in the chair. He'd continued to take a cut of the transactions occurring in the port, but it wasn't nearly enough to keep the Collective going. Before his triumph in the Draullir caves, smuggling had been enough to keep the wheels turning - but after that, there was no smuggling to be done. His old jobs had taken money out of Sloane's pockets. After the coup, they'd only take money out of _his_.

A crime lord couldn't remain a crime lord without committing a little crime. Reyes drew lines, of course, because there had to be lines somewhere - but he'd been running out of sand to draw them in. Maintaining the port cost credits, defending the port cost credits, and the lines in the sand cost more credits than he could find. There were no Alliance authorities to sneak weapons past, no expensive trade regulations to flout, and no overbearing officials to evade - and no familiar opportunities for a man like Reyes to make his credits. He'd once looked into smuggling eezo off Voeld, violating the Initiative-Angaran agreements - but then he'd heard the Pathfinder was looking into it.

Piracy helped a little. A few big raider groups had sprung up after the uprising, and Reyes put teams on their transports whenever he could. The Initiative was off-limits - for obvious reasons - and the angara had enough problems without Reyes picking off their ships. The Kett had been more trouble than the average Collective muscle could handle, even if their ships had carried anything worth selling, and that only left the other exiles; raiders too low on the food chain to give up anything more than lunch money.

He wouldn't traffick people and he wouldn't traffick murder - so trafficking drugs had started to seem like the only remaining option.

Then there was Sara, of course - and that was the part that Reyes couldn't bring himself to explain. He'd hoped she'd come around after she left him with his victory in the caves, but he'd never been so wrong about anything. She'd climbed back inside her Initiative shell, walling herself off with ignored emails and rejected calls, so Reyes had walled himself off in return. He'd sunk himself into the Collective like a diver at the bottom of his oxygen tank; like drowning himself in his business might somehow prove a substitute for breathing.

If it wasn't so sad, it might have been funny. He used to think that leaping galaxies would be the dangerous part of this trip. The prospect of six hundred years of cryo-sleep had been like a blockade around his brain; an impenetrable barrier between himself and the man he wanted to be. He'd imagined passing it, of course, but his creativity had found its limit whenever he tried to picture himself on the other side. Then he'd leapt - and he was there; beyond it; breathing - but the wall shifted with his goalposts, sliding into the distance like some endless hallway in a nightmare. The new barrier was the leap from the Nexus, then the leap into exile; the mantle of the Charlatan and the duel with Kadara's queen.

It never got any better - but Sara had made it all go away. She'd looked at him like none of the trappings mattered; like the flirting and the winking and the too-easy promises were too thin for him to hide behind. She'd looked at him like she really saw Reyes Vidal - and she cared about him anyway.

And then she was gone.

SAM was wrong. It _was_ about the credits - but it was about Sara, too. It was about refusing to fail. It was about proving that he didn't need her; that he could survive without her, no matter what Andromeda threw at him.

Reyes covered his eyes again. "Nakamoto's a good man, SAM. His clinic helps people, but he can't do what he does without credits. Maybe I can't claim to be a good man, but I have the same limitations."

SAM was clearly unmoved. "Oblivion is highly addictive. If not for my ability to manipulate her physiological response to the drug, the Pathfinder would now likely be dependent on it. Does distributing the drug not conflict with your professed ideals?"

"Sloane deliberately fostered addiction," Reyes snarled. "I don't. I don't sell to Initiative colonists, either. Shit, I don't even sell on Kadara. I'm bleeding credits from pirates and raiders - not innocents."

"Consider the credits removed from the discussion. Is suffering only regrettable if it happens to people you approve of?"

"Did you come here just to torture me?"

"No, Mr. Vidal. I would like to ask one more question, but my experience of human emotion leads me to expect that it may offend you. May I proceed anyway?"

Reyes couldn't help but laugh into his hands. It wasn't a happy sound, and it felt like his lungs were being raked over coals - but it was something. "Were you going easy on me, SAM? For shame."

"Is that a yes?"

Reyes dropped his hands and raked his hair back from his forehead. "Fine."

"When you attended Sloane Kelly's party with the Pathfinder, you told her you wished to be someone. Do you feel you have succeeded?"

That was what broke him. He squeezed his eyes shut, fighting back sobs. He'd lost Sara before, but this time was worse. He'd been broken in half twice now, and the cracks through his centre intersected at an angle. The whole of him rattled like shattered glass whenever he tried to draw breath. He felt so empty - but not _just_ empty. There was an absence inside him where something solid should have been.

Whatever it was, Sara had it. Wherever she went, she took it with her. It wasn't a piece of his heart, because Reyes could have dealt with that. It was a piece of _him_ ; a piece of the person no one else in this galaxy had seen. He should have shut down the Oblivion labs the moment that Sara was rescued from that asteroid; the moment his senses returned to him, and the moment those cracks in his soul started to heal over.

He could have found the credits somewhere else. He could have admitted that he needed her.

Shit - how did an AI understand humanity better than he did?

"No," Reyes replied. His voice cracked, just like the rest of him. "But since I answered your questions, you owe me a favour."

"I cannot agree to a favour without first hearing what it is."

"Fair enough." Reyes hiked one leg up to rest his elbow on his knee. A cold breeze was gusting under the bottom of the window, sending chills down his spine. It made the blinds clack against the glass. "I want you to ask Sara a question, too."

"She may refuse to hear it."

"Please."

If an AI could sigh, Reyes suspected that SAM would have. "What would you like me to say?"

Reyes wouldn't make her listen to his explanations; wouldn't bother trying to make her understand his shitty reasons. She'd probably think he was lying, and he really couldn't blame her. He didn't want to sound like was begging, either.

But he was begging, really. It was a silent scream inside of him, echoing in the confines of his chest. It was refracting around that absence at his core.

"Tell her that I didn't mean to hurt her. And tell her that I'm sorry."

"Are you?"

"Will you ask her something for me?" Reyes didn't wait to hear the answer. "When we were together in the safe house - when it was just _us_ \- ask her if she was happy."

It took a moment for SAM to respond. "I am certain that she was, Mr. Vidal."

"But will you ask her?"

"I will try."


	19. A Course For Elaaden

"Pathfinder," SAM said in Sara's head. "Dr. T'Perro has provided an update on Mr. Vidal's condition. He is not yet awake, but he appears to be stirring. Given that she sees no cause for concern, she would like to return to the Tempest."

"Please ask her to keep waiting. I want her to make sure he's okay."

Sara's legs were hurting again, but she didn't want to move. She was curled up behind a computer bank in the tech labs, hidden from well-meaning eyes and kept warm by electrical induction. Her voice stayed low. She didn't want to be found.

Jaal knew she was here, though. He was leaning against the bulkhead opposite, watching her in that strange, solemn way of his. Whenever footsteps passed by the doorway behind Sara's hiding spot, his eyes flickered away - but the moment the danger was gone, his steady gaze returned.

"Should I tell Mr. Jath to launch when Dr. T'Perro returns?" SAM asked.

"Not yet."

Jaal's eyes went to the door, and Sara heard someone approaching. The angara smiled broadly at the newcomer.

It was Liam. "Is Sara in here?"

Sara felt a flash of uncertainty - would Jaal give her away? - but the angara shook his head. "I have not seen her, Liam. Perhaps you should try her quarters."

"Already looked there," Liam grumbled. "SAM, is Ryder even on the ship?"

"Yes, Mr. Kosta."

"Will you tell me where she is?"

"No."

Jaal shrugged, and Liam grumbled something under his breath. "Thanks anyway."

When the sound of Liam's footsteps receded, Jaal's eyes came back to Sara. "They only wish to comfort you," he said quietly. "I believe Liam was bringing you a beer. Do humans often refuse comfort when they are sad?"

"Some humans do," Sara muttered. "And I'm not sad. I'm angry."

Jaal clearly didn't believe it any more than she did. "Perhaps that is okay. I can be sad enough for both of us." He paused. Sara had the feeling she'd need to be angaran to really understand what his expression was trying to convey. "Can I bring you anything? Perhaps one of Liam's beers?"

Sara's face had felt frozen for hours, but she smiled at that. "No. Thanks, though."

Jaal inclined his head. "I will be in the kitchen, should you decide that you do desire company."

Sara closed her eyes as she listened to his footsteps fade away. She needed to go to Elaaden. She needed to find the Charlatan's Oblivion lab, and she needed to destroy it.

The thought sent chills down her spine.

She didn't want to do any of that. She didn't want comfort, either. She wanted to melt into the metal behind her like solder on a stovetop. She wanted to stay like that forever: flattened; nerveless; _done_.

She'd already told the others what happened. Liam had gotten mad, which was satisfying at the time - but his heated eyes and adrenaline had quickly become exhausting. Peebee had plonked a bottle of wine in front of her, loudly lamenting _how good you were together_ , and Vetra's mandibles had vibrated with cold fury - some of it probably directed at Peebee. Scott had apologized for jumping down Sara's throat back at the safe house, but the truth was that she'd forgotten he'd done anything at all.

Thinking too much was making Sara feel sick. The crew didn't seem to blame her for any of the ordeals they'd been through lately, but Sara knew she deserved to be blamed. She felt like an idiot. How had she let herself get blindsided again?

She'd had plenty of reminders to be cautious - every time someone teased her about her _crime lord boyfriend_ ; every time Drack grumbled about her lover being trouble. Sara had gone into things with her eyes wide open, this time, but she'd still managed to forget what being the Charlatan really meant. It was more than just a code name, and he was more than just Reyes Vidal.

He was the Charlatan. He was the criminal leader of a criminals' world. His life was lived in the shadows of the galaxy she was meant to stand for.

_The Charlatan will skin me alive._

_Someone cut their fingers off. Even the krogan's._

_Your boy knows how to keep 'em in line, kid._

Sara couldn't work out why her lungs were still working. There were fishing hooks latched onto the ridges of her spine, and they were all pulling in different directions. She couldn't be the Pathfinder _and_ love the Charlatan. It was like pushing two positive poles together. It was like trying to swim free of an event horizon.

Sara thought her crying was quiet, but Drack's krogan ears still heard it. She heard him coming too, of course, stomping his way across the ops room like he gave no thought to stealth, but she couldn't stifle her sobs quickly enough. He closed the door behind him, and Sara was pathetically grateful.

He peered down over the top of her hiding place. "How you doing, kid?"

"Great," Sara muttered. She didn't mean to sound petulant, but it happened anyway.

Drack grunted, finding a comfortable spot to lean against the edge of the computer bank. "You don't look it."

"Humans cry all the time. We do it when we're sad, when we're happy, when we're sick… it's a pastime."

"Have you forgotten who you're talking to? Go try that on Jaal. Maybe it'll work."

"What do you want?" _That_ was meant to sound petulant, but she just sounded tired instead.

"I'm here to give you my take on this. I'm old, you know. Lots of life experience."

"Uh huh." Sara dragged the back of her hand across her eyes. "I bet you've dated a lot of crime lords."

The old krogran chuckled - but only briefly. He looked at her the way that dad once did, whenever she and Scott did something stupid. "You knew he was trouble, right? Guess you've gotta ask yourself how much trouble is too much trouble."

"I don't suppose you've got any guidelines for that."

"Hah - no."

"Then I don't know," Sara muttered. She looked away from Drack, staring at the floor instead. Her gaze felt too heavy to lift. "I just don't _fucking_ know."

"Just saying," Drack murmured. Sara heard him head back towards the door. "Could be good to know all the facts, so you know how much trouble you're in. You talked to him yet?"

"No."

The door hissed quietly as it opened. "Maybe you should."

Sara didn't have time to think about it - because SAM was in her ear a moment later. She was glad of it. "Pathfinder, Dr. T'Perro has confirmed that Mr. Vidal is now both awake and in good health. She expects to arrive at the Tempest in approximately twenty minutes."

"Thanks, SAM. Please thank Lexi, too."

Sara clambered to her feet. For a moment, it really did feel like she was stuck to the metal behind her; like layers of her skin were coming away with the heated alloy. It was all in her head, of course, but the thought was somehow comforting. Maybe if she peeled back enough skin, things would start to get simpler. Maybe if she shed enough history, she could finally work herself out.

She crept through the ship like a thief. She'd planned to head to the bridge, but she didn't think she could say what needed to be said with Kallo and Suvi's eyes on her back. The words felt beyond her - even now, alone in the axial passageway. _Set a course for Elaaden._ Maybe she could just ask SAM to do it.

Instead of entering the bridge, she scurried down one of the ladders. She could hear people talking in the crew quarters - Cora and Scott, by the sound of it - but she passed them by and headed straight for the Pathfinder's cabin. The door to the crew quarters opened before Sara had a chance to escape.

"Sara!" Cora stuck her head around the doorframe. Her expression was dangerous. "Get in here," she whispered furiously.

Sara pretended not to hear - and locked the cabin door behind her. She heard a dull thud outside, but she didn't particularly care whether Cora had destroyed anything.

"SAM?"

"Yes?"

She tried to say it. She really did. _Set a course for Elaaden_. But those fish hooks on her vertebrae were drawing tight like razor wire, and they sawed back and forth over her spine whenever she reached for the words.

She couldn't do it. She couldn't bring herself to leave - even now, with another unspoken lie around her neck. Even now, there was something pulling her towards him.

Sara lay down on her bed, staring upward and back through the cabin's curved windows. This side of the Tempest was facing away from Kadara Port itself, and the badlands below were invisible too; hidden from view by both darkness and gathering clouds. Neon lights from the port were reflected by the fog, illuminating an approaching storm in bursts of pink, purple and blue.

It was going to rain.

Reyes hadn't _really_ lied to her. She couldn't even name a time it felt like he was holding something back. So why did she feel so betrayed?

Maybe it was because of the ordeal on that Remav asteroid. If not for Reyes, Kaetus wouldn't have had any Oblivion - but he was sure to have found some other way to hurt her. Sara could feel that particular truth in her bones. She could trace it in the outline of the scar on her stomach. Reyes wasn't to blame for what happened to her - hell, he'd saved her life. But this wasn't really about how he treated Sara. If it _had_ been, she'd be in his arms right now.

She'd be telling him all the ways that she loved him; all the parts of her mind that he occupied, and all the pieces of her soul that were wound around his fingers. This wasn't about Reyes Vidal. It was about the Charlatan. It was about his exploitation of suffering for profit.

And it was about Sara being blindsided by it. _Again._

It was her fault, really. She couldn't hold herself responsible for the Oblivion, but she could definitely blame herself for her naiveté. She'd worked so hard to convince herself that Reyes was _better_ \- a better ruler than Sloane, and a better ally for the Initiative; a better person than her crew gave him credit for, and a better man than he realized. She'd convinced herself that the Oblivion made Sloane a monster - and shouldn't that make Reyes a hero?

Maybe the decision she'd made in that Draullir cave had nothing to do with what was good for Kadara, and everything to do with what was good for Sara Ryder. Maybe it was selfish.

_Set a course for Elaaden._

"SAM?"

"I am still listening, Pathfinder."

"Will you do something for me?"

"If it is within my capabilities."

"I want you to call Reyes for me." Her lips trembled around the words. "But I don't want you to tell him that I asked you to do it."

She'd never heard SAM sound surprised before - and she hadn't thought he could. Maybe she was imagining it. "You are asking me to lie to him. I must point out the incongruence -"

"Please don't." Sara wriggled around onto her stomach, bunching her pillow up underneath her chin like it might stop the ache in her throat. "Just…talk to him for me, okay? I need…"

SAM's response was very quiet. "What do you need, Sara?"

Sara sighed. It hurt. "I don't know. I just need to hear his voice."

For a moment, Sara expected him to refuse - but the quiet chirp of an outgoing comm request soon came in through her private channel.

"He will not be able to hear you, Pathfinder. But you will be able to hear him."

Sara could hardly breathe. There were tears in her eyes already, and she almost broke down entirely when she heard Reyes' voice in her ear.

"Sara?"

She buried her face in the pillow, breath coming in shaky gasps.

"No, Mr. Vidal. This is SAM."

Sara wasn't sure how long she lay there, just listening to them speak. SAM asked Reyes the same sorts of probing questions that Sara so often endured herself. Under any other circumstances, she might have found it vindicating, but the ache in her throat was expanding to her lungs; her ribs; her shaking limbs - and it sharpened with every word that Reyes said.

She heard his horror at the news of his exposure: muted and quiet, but still somehow _sharp_ ; like his words were cut from crystal and scattered on the floor. She heard his pain when SAM's questions grew too pointed. She heard his explanations, too, and the helplessness in his voice made the air in her lungs feel like slivers of glass.

"Sloane deliberately fostered addiction. I don't. I don't sell to Initiative colonists, either." He was hard and brittle; crippled and fiery. "Shit, I don't even sell on Kadara. I'm bleeding credits from pirates and raiders - not innocents."

Sara wondered if any of it changed anything. She'd convinced herself not to look for Reyes' flaws - and maybe she'd been hoping that meant she'd never find any. Maybe she'd been hoping that meant he didn't _have_ any. She'd been clinging to that image of the dashing smuggler in a Kadaran bar, relying on that smile of his to distract her; to turn her eyes away from the shadows at his boundaries.  

But she was looking right at them now. Those amber eyes would never lose the darkness in their depths, and there was no point pretending not to see it. He would always have a ruthless side, and there was no use in trying to ignore it. But Sara loved him in a way that exceeded the scope of the word; in a way that both tore at her heart and buoyed it. She loved him in a way that made everything else seem pointless, like her days were wasted if they didn't end in his arms; like without him, she was _lacking_ , even if she couldn't say precisely why.

"Tell her that I didn't meant to hurt her. And tell her that I’m sorry."

Sara could have sworn her breathing stopped.

"Are you?"

Reyes didn't give SAM a response, but Sara could hear his answer in the silence. He was.

He _was_.

"Will you ask her something for me? When we were together in the safe house - when it was just _us_ \- ask her if she was happy."

SAM paused, as if he was waiting for Sara to tell him how to respond - but she couldn't. Her skin was colder than the climate control could explain, and her chest was full of molten heat; of words held inside so long they'd collapsed. Her grip on the pillow had turned her knuckles white. The fabric was dusted with tears.

"I am certain that she was, Mr. Vidal."

"But will you ask her?"

"I will try."

SAM terminated the call - and for a time, Sara just lay there.

She _did_ love him.

She loved him more than she could ever explain - and it was the most selfish feeling she'd ever had. He'd left a part of himself somewhere deep within the foundations of her, like a tattoo on the inside of her spinal cord. He was as much a part of her as her gasping lungs and her aching heart; her starburst scar and her too-tight skin. He was a part of her the galaxy wouldn't like - but he was the part of her that made her happy.

She was so _tired_ of living for other people - and maybe being selfish wasn't the worst thing she could be.

"Please send him a message, SAM." The AI didn't even respond. Perhaps he didn't want to disrupt her thoughts. Perhaps he was afraid to. "Tell him that I was."

Hours passed in silence, though Cora knocked on the cabin door at least half a dozen times. Sara didn't move until the rain began. It started as a trickle, striking the windows in a soft pitter-patter. She watched the moisture carve patterns across the glass, delicate streams converging and melding and parting until she lost track of the threads completely. The thunder started, then, and the trickle became a downpour. The patterns vanished entirely, engulfed by a curtain of water that smoothed its way down the curved surface like silk. The lights from the port became a mosaic of rippling colour - and Sara's terminal beeped.

_To: Sara Ryder_

_From: Reyes Vidal_

_I was happy, too._


	20. Better

Sara didn't tell anyone where she was going, or even that she was _going_ at all. She pulled on her hoodie, tugging and arranging until her face was almost hidden by the fall of the fabric. Her jacket went on over that, pulled as close as she could keep it. It wouldn't do much to protect her from the rain, but it would probably make a passable disguise. The Tempest's hull was thick enough to silence the screams of a ship breaching atmosphere, but Sara still fancied she could hear the steady drumming of water on metal. It was frantic at times and pounding at others, rather like the beating of her heart - and it was always there.

It followed her when she snuck out of her cabin and scurried through the ship like a fugitive. It followed her when she borrowed the pistol someone had left atop a cargo crate in the hold. It followed her when she asked SAM to lower the boarding ramp.

Her heart was fluttering somewhere behind her vocal chords. Her veins were swirling with enough unused adrenaline to power a biotic storm. She bounced up and down on the tips of her toes as the ramp descended, its progress agonizingly slow. Speed was necessary. Speed was _vital_. If she took the time to think - if she took the time to _breathe_ \- she was almost certain to reconsider.

"Hmph."

Sara almost scrambled up a bulkhead when she heard Drack grunt. She stumbled backwards slightly, craning her neck to see through the grated catwalk above. "What the hell, Drack?"

"You okay, kid?"

"Yes." Sara readjusted her jacket, pulling the collar both higher and tighter.

"You hungry?"

"What?"

"Well, it seemed stupid to ask where you were going. Figured you might want to take some food with you."

Sara ducked her head, wondering why her stomach shrivelled at the words. Shame, probably. She could be making a huge mistake. Drack was watching her curiously, and Sara did her best to avoid eye contact.

"No."

The old krogan shrugged. "You want back-up, then?"

"Nope."

"You taking a gun?"

"Yep."

He looked her over like he knew exactly what she was thinking - and even though Sara knew that was impossible, she found herself trying to steer her thoughts down another path. She tried not to think about begging salarians or executed kidnappers; about anything that even _hinted_ she could be headed into danger. The Charlatan was dangerous - but he wasn't dangerous to her.

 _Never_ to her.

Still, she couldn't shake the words that beat against her skull like a military cadence. _The Charlatan will skin me alive._

"All right," Drack said eventually. "You just call if you need me to dangle anyone off a building."

The boarding ramp hit the ground with a quiet _thud_ , but something in Drack's voice made Sara delay. She truly could hear the rain now - and it sent a quiet shiver through her bones. "You really don't like him, do you?"

Maybe she was fishing. Maybe she was looking for something to bring her down on one side of this or the other; to end the constant teetering on this ever-thinning knife edge.

Drack only laughed. "I'm not _supposed_ to like your boyfriend, kid, even if he's a saint. Or do humans not do that?"

"Some of them do." Sara paused. "What do you think? About the Oblivion. About all of it." She glanced around nervously, still worried that someone else might hear.

For a moment, Drack was silent. He was clearly taking the time to think. "Well, he's sure lost some of that moral high ground. Over Sloane, that is."

"Some?" Sara knew she sounded bitter.

"Yeah. Some. That clinic in the slums is doing well, and you know who to thank for that. New equipment, too." Drack stared down at her like a stern and judging god. "Vidal's still making donations, and I haven't seen any protection money changing hands, either. No poor bastards thrown into the badlands."

"Just a few kidnappers thrown off the mountain."

She expected a gruff laugh, or maybe a grunted agreement - but Drack scowled at her. "I'm with him on that one."

Sara didn't manage a reply. She was touched, she supposed, but she was shaken, too. Maybe it was the drumming of the rain, or maybe it was the mass of the pistol inside her jacket. Either way, she wasn't quite present in the moment anymore. She was thinking about her last rainy day on Kadara; about the weight on her wrist and the needle in her neck.

Shit. She was a mess. She was a shivering bundle of hollowed bones and hidden fears, and she was wrapping herself round with a layer of bruising skin.

Drack seemed to see it, too. "I can't tell you what to do, but you've gotta do what you think is right."

"Right for who?"

"I can't tell you that, either."

But Sara needed him to tell her _something_ , so she asked the question she'd been trying to ignore. She'd been dancing circles around it for hours, flirting with the boundaries and worrying the edge; desperate for an answer, but terrified of what she'd find. She was an in with the Initiative and a powerful ally on her own. She was a helpful invested party should anyone ever threaten the Charlatan.

Hell, maybe it hadn't just been hours. Maybe it was months. Maybe she'd been thinking about it since she left that Draullir cave.

"What if he's been using me?"

Drack _laughed_. He clung to the railing, doubling over with mirth - though he had the good grace to look sorry when he straightened. "Look, kid -" Sara could have sworn he wiped tears out of his eyes. "- I'm gonna give it to you straight." He leaned forward to fix her with his steadiest krogan stare. "You don't scour a cluster for someone you're _using_. You don't dig bullets out of them, either.

And you don't look at them the way Reyes looks at you."

It was a moment before Sara could find the words to respond. She couldn't have said what she was thinking. She wasn't sure if she _was_ thinking. "Thanks, old man."

"You be careful, kid."

Sara's jacket kept her Initiative emblem hidden as she disembarked the Tempest and scurried through the port's soaking streets, but she still couldn't breathe easy. Her hands were cold, and jamming them in her pockets didn't help. Curling them around her pistol didn't help either, but it did stop their shaking. Rain on Kadara would probably always set her teeth on edge. Still, she tried to school her breathing as she skulked along, ducking around corners and weaving through crowds with her head down and her hood up. One, two, glance out of the corner of her eye; one, two, hurry through the open space. The neon lights reflected off standing water and refracted through the pouring rain, turning the port into a prism of sweeping shades; a kaleidoscope that slid the spectrum from pink through to purple and blue.

She'd never walked these darkened streets alone before - hell, she'd never walked this particular path at all. She had the coordinates, though, and that would have to be enough.

The street sloped sharply upwards, turning hairpins around outcrops and protrusions as the altitude climbed. At times, the steel gratings beneath her feet surrendered to the mountain's unpredictable curves, with some sections of the path only accessible by clambering over the rock face. Steel handholds jutted out from the mountainside in these places, at a height that suggested they were meant for human use - and Sara had to give herself a pep talk before she could take the first one. She wished she'd brought her jump jet.

SAM seemed to agree. "This route appears treacherous, Pathfinder. I suggest you find an alternate path."

Sara ignored him. Lexi must have taken Reyes along another route, but Sara refused to detour. She couldn't have said why, but she had a feeling the answer would make her feel small - and it would probably make her sad, too.

When she let Lexi take him away, he'd looked like he was barely conscious. Sara had farewelled him with a kiss, but his lips stayed still and soft - and he hadn't noticed the tears she left on his cheeks.

The lights from the port grew distant as Sara climbed. The air grew colder, too, but that could have been the wind through her sodden clothing. Her jacket wasn't waterproof, and her hoodie even less so. Her clothes hung heavy with the weight of unshed water, pulling her down like an anchor around her neck. Sara's muscles screamed for mercy as she neared the safe house coordinates. She hadn't thought this through.

But she made it.

She almost fell flat on her face when she finally crested the apex of the path. Somehow, she settled for falling to her knees instead. Her hands shook when she planted them on the ground in front of her. Her arms shook too; her shoulders, lungs and heart. The rain was beating her down into the rock, like it had sworn to make a fossil out of her - or like it was trying to force her to turn back.

It figured that Reyes would choose himself a safe house way up here. He had a flair for the dramatic - and the apartments rising around her were nothing if not that, perched on the mountainside's utmost edge - but dramatic did not have to mean luxurious. The buildings were plain, almost trending towards ramshackle, and their steel facades caught the port's escaping neons like tinted diamonds in a funnel. Sara shielded her eyes as she staggered towards the buildings, squinting against the beams of sharpened colour.

She was so cold.

She almost broke down at the threshold of Reyes' apartment. She almost turned tail and ran. It would be easier to fall down the mountain than climb it, and the thought made Sara's muscles ache with unrealized relief. She didn't have to do this. She didn't have to risk -

"Is this the right place, SAM?"

"Yes, Pathfinder."

She knocked on the door and huddled there in the rain, rocking back and forth under the force of her own heartbeat. For a moment, she couldn't hear anything but the sound of drumming water and the rasp of her breathing - but then a muffled _scrape_ came from inside; a fumble and the sound of someone swearing under their breath.

Of course. He was grabbing for his gun.

"It's me," Sara called softly, although she knew he couldn't hear her. She was grateful for it, too, because her voice sounded small and helpless. She was scratching at his door like a kitten in the rain, soaked to the skin and begging for shelter - begging for _him_ , maybe, or at least the _him_ she thought she knew -

Reyes opened the door, and Sara's heart seemed to seize mid-beat, like it was clinging to her sternum at the height of its last leap. He was shirtless and dishevelled; bandaged up from one elbow down. His hair was a mess, like he'd run his fingers through it a hundred times. The bandage on his upper arm was gone, along with the medi-gel beneath it, but Sara could still see a faint mark there.

His eyes went wide, gun falling to his side. He must have been expecting her - _surely_ \- because Sara's blood was humming like a resonator coaxed to song. Those wires around her bones pulled tight; pulled sharp; pulled _forward_ , and Sara had to believe he felt it as well. She staggered forward before he had time to recover - and Reyes stumbled back to let her in. Sara didn't bother to close the door.

"Sara -"

She pointed at the bandage on his forearm. "Will it scar?"

"What?" His eyes tracked the length of her arm, finally trailing off the end of her finger like her words were just a string of nonsense sounds; like the only real meaning amidst the pounding rain and bending light was in the stirring of her body. "Uh, no. Apparently not -"

Sara stepped closer, abandoning her pistol on a chair beside the door; hand sliding up behind his neck. Reyes fell silent. His lips parted -

And she kissed him.

\---

Reyes had to wonder if he'd lost his mind. Sara was tracking water across the floor and smearing it all over him - but Reyes barely noticed, because her lips were pressed to his. She wound her arms around his neck and locked them there, pushing hard enough against him to carry him backwards into the wall. They hit the metal with a _thud_ and a shared gasp. He was blinded by the lights sneaking in over her shoulder. He was as dizzy as a man in a tailspin.

He was too dazed to question, really, and too confused to wonder why - but something inside him still knew this was too good to be true. His bones thinned out when Sara deepened the kiss, like they were preparing for the inevitable crumbling. His skin drew tight like a bubble stretching out to break. There was something twisting deep inside his chest, like someone had reached in through his ribs to tweak a tendon out of place. Maybe it was Sara. He wouldn't be surprised to find her fingers around his heart.

He was hurt. Of _course_ he was hurt, just like he was guilty and hungry and adoring. He'd love her in daylight and darkness; in the twisting neon lights and in the frigid, sulphurous rain. He'd love her no matter where she'd been. No matter what she'd done.

So why couldn't _she_ -

Sara pulled away, just like Reyes knew she would. She wrapped her arms around herself, but she was already beginning to shake, fingers skittering like falling leaves as they brushed her sodden shoulders. She paced over to the window, hunkering tight against the slatted blinds. Reyes couldn't breathe. He was teetering on the edge of a groan that refused to leave his lungs. He closed the door to buy himself some time. Habit. Safety.

Fear.

He knew what she’d come here to do - and he didn’t know how to stop it.

“Sara –“

“Just... give me a minute.”

She reached up with one shaking hand and pulled the blinds aside. Coloured lights flooded in, sweeping the room like a forest of aimless searchlights. Sara was silhouetted by the dancing lattice, pink dusting her hair and blue lining her skin. The light shivered when she shivered. It moved when she moved.

Reyes wasn’t sure how long they stood there, both staring at something beyond their reach. He stared at her, of course, helpless to bridge that divide between them, and Sara gazed down at the port. Reyes couldn’t see her face. Maybe her shaking shoulders should have given it all away, but the air up here was cool – and Sara was soaked to the skin.

Reyes was frozen too, because there was a building pressure in his chest that he didn't know how to ease. He should have known how she’d react when he resurrected an evil she'd thought destroyed – and hell, maybe part of him _had_ known. Maybe some twisted and primal portion of his psyche really had wanted to hurt her; to show her something of the way she’d broken him.

Because he’d meant something to her – and then he hadn’t.

And it was about to happen again.

He was afraid to speak – but he was afraid of the silence, too, so he snatched up the blanket that hung over the edge of the couch. He felt every polyester strand that caught on the tips of fingers, but he still managed to feel like he was numb. Approaching her was like approaching a black hole. Her presence pulled him in, heedless and desperate and _willing_. Maybe Sara would be the end of him. Maybe she'd catch him in her orbit, then catch the neons, too - and finally pull them all down into the dark.

“Here.” Reyes’ fingers grazed her elbow, but she didn’t jerk away. “You’re going to freeze to death. Lexi will kill me."

He expected her to brush him off – but she didn’t. She turned her face towards him instead, eyelashes scattering pink and blue across her cheeks. “Yeah.”

Almost despite himself, Reyes reached for her collar. Slowly, like he was quieting a pulsing star, he peeled the jacket over her shoulders. She didn’t resist; didn’t protest; let him drop the supple leather in a heap by their feet – but the hoodie beneath her jacket was soaked through, too. Reyes wouldn’t have thought it was possible to move any slower, but he managed it. His fingers curled under the hem of the fabric, questioning; careful; _slow_ – and Sara sucked in a shaky breath.

But she didn’t pull away.

He lifted the hoodie over her head, trying not to look at any of the skin beneath; trying not to notice when his knuckles grazed her chest – because he didn't want her to wonder what this was really about. Sara wasn’t trembling, exactly, but she moved like she was underwater. She breathed like it, too; as if every shallow gasp was precious and hard-won. A quiet _slap_ sounded when the sopping hoodie hit the floor, and Reyes threw the blanket around her bare shoulders. He went to fold his arms around her as well –

And Sara pulled back.

“Sara –“

Reyes wasn’t even sure what he wanted to say. _I'm sorry_ seemed reductive; _I can explain_ sounded fake – and it felt pointless to say _I love you._ He knew it. She knew it. Every move they made sent echoes of it through the air, sweeping currents out in arcs like a nova scattering stars. Maybe there was nothing Reyes could say.

But he had to try.

“Sara -“

“Why do I love you so much?”

Her words were quiet. Maybe they should have hurt, but they didn't - because it was a question he'd asked himself a thousand times. Reyes had never really known the answer, and that was half of why he loved _her_. She saw something in him that was worth loving, even if neither of them could identify it. She saw _him_.

And to Reyes, that was everything.

Shit. His fucking codename was Shena, but he’d never be able to put those thoughts into words - not even if he had another six hundred years.

It didn't matter, because Sara didn't wait for an answer. Her cheeks were wet with either rainwater or tears, and the neon light turned the water to a brilliant opal sheen. “Why do you lie to me?”

“I don’t.” He said it with the force of all his strongest convictions; with the weight of all the stars the black hole had devoured. _I don’t._

"But you don't tell me the truth." She paused, gazing at him like she was willing him to hear all the words she couldn't say. "If I hadn't found out, would you ever have told me?"

Reyes wanted to sigh, but he could hardly breathe at all. “I don’t know.”

He was leaning towards _no_. What would it have achieved? Reyes couldn't bear to see her hurting, because her pain was his pain, like their nerve ends were entangled. All a confession would have brought them was more of it. This thing they had between them - this _love_ , for all that Reyes' soul still trembled at the word - was the strongest thing he'd ever felt. But it was fragile, too; a binary star system perfectly balanced at the point of going nova. It was intense. It was beautiful.

It could disintegrate at a touch.

"SAM told me," Sara murmured. She made it sound like an admission. "About what you said to him."

Reyes swallowed past the lump in his throat; past the hollow in his chest that longed for her to touch him. "I asked him not to. It must look like I'm trying to -"

"I know." Sara stepped closer, leaning into his chest, and Reyes' heart threatened to shatter itself against his ribs. "But… Jesus, Reyes. _Why_ do you love me?"

"Sara -"

" _How_ can you love me when you - when your life is like this?" She waved her hand in a jerky circle, around the port below them and its oscillating neon beams. Maybe she was indicating Kadara and its sulfur-laden woes - or maybe the whole of Andromeda, and the harm Reyes had scattered across it. "You do terrible things - I _know_ you do - and I know I'm supposed to hate you for it, but -"

"But you don't." It was meant to sound confident. It was meant to sound convincing. It came out like a prayer, instead; like he was clutching his mother's rosary beads and begging on his knees.

Sara crumbled. She retreated like a shuttle fleeing a wreck, shoring up on the couch with her knees curled against her chest. It was a moment before Reyes could follow - because she was crying silently. She was trying to hide it with a hand over her eyes, but he could see her shoulders shaking. He could see her breaking apart the same way he was. He sat down beside her -

"Stop," she whispered. Reyes could barely hear it, but it sliced through him anyway. Any deeper and he'd be bleeding out; emptying every drop of warmth onto the floor around her.

"Stop what?" The words scraped his throat like sandpaper.

"Just stop." She turned her face away, still trying to hide her tears. "Stop making me love you."

A moment passed in silence. Reyes could hear his heart breaking. He could hear Sara's, too. "I'm sorry."

He wasn't sure exactly what he was apologizing for, but it wasn't the Oblivion. Maybe it was for what she'd been through since he pushed Sloane Kelly off her throne. Maybe it was for the mile-wide blind spot he had whenever Sara was in the picture. Maybe it was because he couldn't stop loving _her_ \- and he could never bring himself to give her what she asked for.

But maybe he could fix things - for now, at least, so that the rest could happen slowly. Maybe he could handle it like triage; deal with the deadly wound first, then work towards healing whatever injury remained.

"I'll shut down the operation on Elaaden. I'll destroy the formula."

It would be difficult, it would be costly, and it wouldn't go over well with anyone in the Collective - but if it was the price of Sara's happiness, he'd gladly pay it. If it was the cost of Sara's love, he'd pay it a hundred times over.

But Sara shook her head. She let her hands fall so she could stare blankly at the floor, oblivious to the play of the lights over her face. "What's the point? If you found the formula, it's only a matter of time before someone else does." She paused - and for a moment, Reyes really couldn't breathe - but her next words gave him hope. "At least if it's you…"

"Yes?" Reyes couldn't bear the suspense. His lungs stopped expanding, like they were straining to hear her words; like they'd choose Sara over breathing any day.

She curled in on herself once more, clutching her knees to her chest. "I need to be able to trust you," she murmured, almost like she was talking to herself. Her voice was wispy, like silk dragged over jagged rocks. Her next words were repetition choked out from between gritted teeth.

"Why do you love me?"

Reyes sighed. It kicked his lungs into gear, but their working was still tremulous. Every breath was an effort. He could say the obvious things, but Sara would never believe them. They could be the truest words that ever passed his lips, but she would still think they were lies - because Sara would never believe that she was _sweet_ or _brave_ or _precious_. She'd never believe that was enough.

"I'm better when I'm with you."

Sara held herself perfectly still, but something in her expression changed. The sweeping lights bounced off something brittle in her eyes - and Reyes could see it shatter. "What does that mean?"

Reyes shrugged. Even that tiny movement _hurt_. "Exactly what it sounds like. I'm _better_ when I'm with you."

Sara caved in on herself, bare shoulders shaking with silent sobs, but Reyes couldn't stop.

"I'm not saying this to obligate you, Sara, or to make you feel like you have to stay - because I'm better just by knowing you. By _having_ known you."

She was crying harder, now, and Reyes felt like a monster. But what was the point of this if he couldn't be honest with her? Tonight could be the last time he ever saw her - and Reyes had to get it out.

"But I don't want you to hurt," he croaked. He didn't want to cry in front of her, either, but he was starting to wonder if he could help it. "If someone has to hurt, let it be me. Let it be my misfortune to love you - and not yours to be loved by me."

Sara took his hand. Her eyes were like the storm outside, full of light and shadow. The neons framed her like a halo, turning dust motes into nebulae as she climbed into his lap. She grabbed him by the jaw -

And kissed him again, like she was trying to burn them both alive; like the blinding lights behind her could set the whole planet ablaze. When she pulled back, Reyes was dizzy - but she didn't pull back, really. Her lips left his, but only barely. They brushed his skin when she breathed.

"I don't know what to do," she whispered - like she was looking to him for answers. Like he wasn't just as lost as she was. "But we can't go on the way we've been going."

"I'll do anything." It wasn't what she asked, but the words were out before Reyes could stop them. They'd been pushing at his lips for days. "All of this is nothing if I lose you."

For a moment, Sara looked like she was going to cry again - but she grasped his face instead, thumb stroking softly over his cheekbone. "You'll really never sell to the Initiative?"

Reyes was almost confused, because none of this was really about the Oblivion. It was about the fissure between their identities; that disconnect between their wildly different lives. "Yes."

"And if you run out of credits again?"

"I won't."

"You can't promise that," she murmured, her hand leaving his cheek - but Reyes trapped it beneath his fingers. He pressed it close, his eyes beginning to sting.

"Then I'll tell you - and we'll find a way to deal with it together."

Sara was shaking her head. "You can't promise that, either. You'll always have secrets, Reyes. You still have secrets now."

Reyes closed his eyes. Sara's skin was cold, but he wanted to melt into her anyway. He was spinning circles inside his head, and the palm on his cheek was his orbital centre. Even if she left, he'd never lose that perpetual link between them. They were tied together with webs of something that Reyes still couldn't identify, but he could feel the truth of it in every muscle; every bone; every drop of water in his body.

"We could walk away from this right now." He opened his eyes, fighting back tears when he heard her answering sob. "If we did that - if we said this was the end of it - tell me that it wouldn't hurt you."

Sara only shook her head again, biting her lip like she was holding back a wail.

Reyes kept going. "What if we promise to try?"

Shit, it sounded so _cliché_ ; like he was a teenager trying to weasel his way out of a break-up or a bad report card. But he couldn't think of any other way to say it.

Sara moved as if to pull her hand away again. Reyes didn't try to stop her, even though his heart was cracking in two - but she froze right before their skin broke contact, like a dancer poised for a leap she couldn't quite bring herself to make.

Reyes' voice cracked. "Please, Sara. What do you feel when you're with me?"

She hesitated. "Reyes -"

"Please."

Sara took a deep breath. It felt like she was drawing the air directly from his lungs - and Reyes would gladly let her have it.

"I feel -" She ducked her head, her voice growing quiet. "Safe."

It was Reyes that crumbled, then, like she'd pulled some lynchpin at the base of his soul so she could hold it between her teeth; like he was fragmenting and collapsing and _dissolving_ from the inside out. She couldn't know what she was saying. She couldn't know the weight of his echoed feelings.

"You make me feel like I'm real," Sara continued. She was speaking quickly, now, like she'd opened a dam she couldn't repair. "Like I'm not just the Pathfinder. Like I'm _me_ \- and that being me is okay."

Her voice broke, and she clutched at Reyes' shoulder for support. Her other palm was still on his cheek. She was trembling, but so was Reyes - like they were tangled by a frequency they couldn't measure or escape.

He knew he shouldn't push her. They were teetering on a knife edge that could cut them both to ribbons if they tipped too far, but he couldn't help it. She was vulnerable in the same way he was. She was hurting the same way he was, too.

So he slid his hand behind her neck and pulled her in to kiss her. For a moment, he was sure he'd gone too far; that she'd remembered her Initiative shell and was ready to draw it close around her - but she kissed him back. There were tears on Reyes' cheek, and he wasn't sure if they were hers. He paused just long enough to whisper _I love you_ \- and Sara whispered it back, fingers digging into his shoulder.

"I'm not giving you up," she murmured, and the words sent waves crashing through Reyes' brain; his heart; his lungs. He wanted to drag her back down to his lips and kiss her until she begged for mercy. He wanted to show her how right she was.

So he did. "I promise," he muttered between kisses. "I promise -"

"Wait." Sara took his head between her hands and forced him back. She held him close - but still, like she was tripping the very edge of escape velocity. She pulled down a shaky breath, and Reyes saw it run through her like an electric current. "You should start taxing Ditaeon."

"What?" The words sounded like nonsense. Taxes? What was she -

Oh. "I don't need -"

Sara cut him off with another kiss, her lips wandering to the corner of his mouth. "I don't want to know about the Collective's finances," she murmured into his lips. "Work stays separate. You'll never be able to tell me about all of it, so I don't want you to try."

Reyes' throat threatened to close over when he tried to respond, like his body was refusing to take the risk - but this was something that couldn't go unsaid. "And the Oblivion?"

Another shudder ran through her, like the words were six bullets instead of six syllables, but she shook it off. "No colonists."

Reyes shook his head.

"And you'll keep supporting Nakamoto?"

He nodded, then kissed her again, teeth skimming her lower lip. "There's something else I need to tell you."

Reyes was well aware of what they'd just agreed, and every cell inside him was _screaming_ at him to take his good fortune and shut up; to kiss her again and show her how he felt with his mouth and his fingers and his body - but this particular truth concerned her, and he couldn't keep it hidden any longer.

"After Remav," he began, trying and failing to disguise the tremor in his voice, "I had my people hunt down the men that took you from outside Tartarus. I had them -"

"Shh."

Sara pressed the tips of her fingers against his mouth. Reyes' lips parted easily, and her gaze drifted down to see them give way beneath her fingertips. There was something in her face that Reyes couldn't quite pin down, but it pulled him to her like she'd tied a string around his neck; like she was drawing his soul out through his quivering lips and shallow breath.

And Reyes wanted her to take it.

"You're the Charlatan," Sara whispered, and it no longer sounded like an accusation. She leaned in to press her forehead to his, the pads of her fingers still dragging at his lower lip. "You're Reyes Vidal.

"And I want all of you."

Her next kiss was passionate; desperate; _slow_. The neons slid over her skin as she let the blanket fall from her shoulders, illuminating every curve in curtains of pink and blue. The lights danced across the ceiling, blinding whenever they crossed Reyes' eyes; lighting Sara's body like an emission spectrum as he pushed her down into the threadbare couch. She pulled Reyes down further, fingers tangling in his hair. There was a sigh catching in his throat - of contentment, relief and yearning - but Sara kissed it away. He lost it in the air between them; in the press of her skin and the warmth of her mouth. Her eyelashes fluttered and her spine curved when he dragged his lips along her collarbone. Sara dug her fingers into his back and hooked one leg around his hips.

They both groaned when SAM interrupted them. "Pathfinder?"

" _What_ , SAM?"

Reyes buried his face in Sara's shoulder. She laughed breathlessly - but then her shoulders stiffened.

"Is something wrong?" she asked.

Suddenly, Reyes was anxious too. Was there another emergency? That _was_ their pattern, after all: crisis following crisis; sprinting from one disaster to the next -

"There is no need for alarm. Hello, Mr. Vidal."

Sara sighed into Reyes' hair. He stifled a chuckle. "Hello, SAM."

"Pathfinder, the crew would like to know when you plan to return to the Tempest. Their request was quite animated."

Reyes lifted his head to watch her. Sara looked languid and relaxed - but still a little shaky, like she'd just shed the weight of planets from her shoulders.

"I'm not sure," she said softly. "Give them a message for me."

Sara stroked her hand up Reyes' back, fingertips catching in the nocks along his spine. He arched his back like a cat, but she pulled him down until his body was flat against hers; until there was almost no part of them that could claim to be alone. She smiled slowly, and Reyes grinned right back - like whatever force was pulling at her lips was pulling at his as well.

SAM was still talking. "What message should I convey?"

Sara kissed him again, smooth and soft and gentle, and Reyes knew he'd never escape her orbit. He never wanted to.

"Tell them I'm busy being happy."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, guys, there it is. The end. :)
> 
> I really hope you enjoyed it. Please leave me something if you did! Or come follow me on tumblr, where I post my smaller pieces and prompt responses. You can find me at http://notebookalpha.tumblr.com.
> 
> Or better yet, do both. Both is good.
> 
> <3


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